Neverland
by TheNameIsWatson
Summary: Harry James Potter has always wanted a family to call his own. At fourteen years old, burdened with memories that would shake even hardened soldiers, he is granted his wish and finds out that sometimes, appearance can be quite deceiving. (NOT Evil!Dumbles; features major OC)
1. Divided We Start

**Hello! Don't worry, I'm not gonna keep you for long but I wanted to get a couple of things outta the way right away. 1) Nope, I don't write like this in the story, unless in dialogue. 2) I don't have a Beta, so if you find any mistakes at all, please point them out to me. If you'd like to be my Beta, feel free to message me. 3) English is not my native language. Whilst I think my language skills are quite good, you may find that I often blur the lines between American and British English. That is because I didn't learn one version exclusively but picked it up by actively using the language. I'll try to keep it to a minimum but sometimes, I don't really notice when I jump between BE and AE. 4) I'm an aspiring author but, alas, I'm not an author yet. This story won't be top notch at all and I know that. I write so that I can learn from my mistakes, which is why I'd love for you to give me some constructive criticism that I can use to improve. Now, the emphasis here is on the word 'constructive'. If you criticize or flame me for the sake of criticizing or flaming someone, you can consider yourself strongly urged to go away. Everyone else...Enjoy!**

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The castle was still plunged in silence, eerily quiet without even the faintest echo of a voice. No light had yet reached the windows and his only guide through the darkness as he crept along the cold walls was the flicker of his torch. Figures seemed to dance around the shadows, not truly there but still unchanged through the years. There was a time, he remembered, when those figures had frightened him, those figures that weren't there during the day but appeared as soon as the moon sat upon the darkened sky.

He crept up the stairs. He knew these halls, had walked them since he was a mere boy himself, but wandering them at night, when no student thought to leave their bed, made every corner, every known wall and step lose their familiarity and turned them into something unknown, something mysterious. Yet, he found his way, as certain as during the day, and stood before the wooden door he had sought before the moon had fully vanished behind the great green mountains that lay behind the castle.

Only a few days had passed since his son had returned from this very school, his young mind filled with stories of the tournament that had taken place that year- he himself had tried to fight the Ministry's decision to hold the tournament in the first place. There was a reason it had been dispelled, he had argued. Children had _died_. Yet, the Minister, fool that he was, hadn't listened to reason, instead choosing to lend his ears to Ludo Bagman. An idiot's voice was always louder and more pleasing to the ears of his fellow idiots. Well, the man had gotten his wish and now- now they were just inches away of another war, not that the Ministry knew. He shuddered at the thought- the first war had cost them so much. He'd lost his only brother to the war, his wife had lost a sister. And both together…it had cost them too much. It had cost their son too much; their son, who had been only sixteen months old when the war ended. He rubbed a hand over his face. Until this very day, their son didn't know of his grievous loss. That would change today, he knew. A lot would change.

He raised his hand and knocked. The door flew open immediately and Severus pulled him inside without a greeting. On his desk lay a large book, far too large for any man to carry it without a swish of his wand.

"Are you certain?" Lucius asked.

Severus nodded and led him to the book. "I am. I have triple checked everything, even the birth records, and Madam Pomfrey's notes. There's no other way."

He sunk into the nearest chair. "I can't believe it. All these years and he was right under my nose- I talked to him, I _threatened_ him," he paled. "Severus, I've watched him be tortured."

"You didn't know that it was him-"

"He was still just a boy. I've treated a child like the enemy and have done so for many years. He will never forgive me-"

Severus scoffed. "You wouldn't believe how much that child has forgiven. Say the right words and the boy will forgive you everything."

"What about his brother?" He asked, if only to distract his own mind.

The younger man shook his head. "No news."

 _No news_. Two words he had become too accustomed to hearing when it came to the twins. _We're very sorry, Lord Malfoy, but there are no news on your sons._

The game had changed. Finally, _finally_ , he knew that at least one of his twins had survived the war, had survived whatever had happened to them. Now that they had Eoin…yes, Eoin was the key. His life, everything he had seen and done so far, it all would take them one step closer to Finian.

"Where is he?"

"Muggle England," Severus said. "I cannot say for sure where exactly. Dumbledore keeps his location quiet, even from the Order. Few know where the boy lives when he's not at Hogwarts."

"Is he being watched?"  
He nodded. "Certainly. Dumbledore won't want to take any risks. Potter is essential to his plans, he won't give him up easily."

 _Potter._ That was another thing he'd need to work on. Beating that name out his friend's mind, and more importantly out of his son's, would require hard work. The boy had never made a secret out of his admiration for James Potter. There was no doubt in Lucius' mind that the boy would refuse to have his image of the man shaken, especially if it were Lucius' words that warranted it.

"You say he forgives easily."

"Indeed. I have seen that boy forgive the entire school for thinking him evil. He forgave his so called friend for betraying him in the blink of an eye."

"He has never forgiven Draco."

Severus shook his head. "He had just learned that his parents had sacrificed themselves for him and Draco insulted them and their memory. Had Draco apologized and seen the errors of his way instead of continuing this silly feud, I do not doubt that Potter would've forgiven him as well," he leaned forward. "Let us not worry about this until the time comes, Lucius. For now, we have to decide how to handle this situation. You know as well as I do that Potter has a special dislike for your family, he won't let you take him away silently. Go home, inform Narcissa and Draco of what is happening. Prepare the manor for your son's return. I will talk to Dumbledore, see if he can put me on the Pottersitting roster."

"You're right. Goodness, Draco doesn't even know that he is no only child."

"Then it's about time he is told. I will meet you tonight. Maybe by then, we'll even be one step closer to finding Finian as well."

Lucius left Hogwarts soon after. The sun was already up by the time he walked through the giant gates, feeling as though a heavy burden had been lifted from him only to be replaced by another one. Narcissa would still be asleep by the time he arrived home, he knew, but Draco had been an early riser, ever since the days of his earliest childhood. He would be up and about, possibly strolling the gardens with his broom in hand, ready to take off the second he reached the Quidditch pit. In another life, he might have done so with his brothers and now, now Lucius had the opportunity to give him that life- and this time, he wouldn't let his twins slip away again.

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 **Short chapter I know. From here on, they will hopefully be longer, though. The name Eoin is the Irish version of Owen and is pronounced just like its anglicized counterpart. Finian is pronounced like Finn and Ian put together.**


	2. Harry's Story

**Alrighty then, Chapter Two! Wow, how exciting. First off, I'd like to thank chasingskeleton, Teddie Jean, blinddivinity, IA26 and StarDuchess for their nice reviews as well as twenty-six of you for following this story and nine of you for favoriting. Means a lot, you guys, and is way more than what I expected! But I also want to mention that one very funny individual has thought it clever to comment something incredibly inappropriate. I have since removed the review and will remove any such reviews that may come up in the future (which I sincerely hope they won't). I know this story is rated M but that doesn't mean in any way that I will tolerate such things. Rule of thumb: if you want to comment something you think might be inappropriate, think about whether you'd be comfortable saying it to someone's face. If not, don't post it. If yes, please, do go ahead. Alright, well, that's all. Off you go, enjoy!**

 **DISCLAIMER (because I forgot to put it in before, silly me): _Harry_** ** _Potter_** **does not belong to me, as do all of the characters that you recognize. All rights belong to Joanne K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warners Bros. This story is written not for monetary profit but to get that annoyingly persistent plot bunny out of my head and to hopefully improve my writing skills. I only own all OCs that come up. Any resemblance to existing people (dead included) and real events is unintentional. This disclaimer is meant to include this and the previous chapter as well as any that follow because I'm way too lazy to c&p it every time.**

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There wasn't much Harry liked to remember about his childhood. Living through it once was bad enough and he truly was most happy when all thoughts of the first eleven years of his life were neatly packed away in the farthest corner of his mind, where not even his dreams could dig them out. That had worked quite well for two years that, whilst not particularly peaceful years or even consistently happy, were at the very least a welcome interruption to his dull life with the Dursleys.

For those two years, Harry had been sure that Hogwarts, despite its flaws, was the home he had always yearned for but now, after all that had happened, he wasn't so sure anymore. It was, of course, more of a home than Privet Drive could ever hope to be but that didn't mean much at all.

Home, Harry supposed, was meant to be his safe haven, the place he could go when things got rough. Home was where everyone accepted him for who he was and appreciated him for it. At least, that's what Harry thought home was. He wouldn't know, though, because his home had vanished when he was only a baby.

Hogwarts, however, had provided none of these things. Indeed, during the past four years, he had acquired a good set of skills that could see him through the dangers he constantly faced at school. Looking back, the Philosopher's Stone that he and his two best friends had saved from Lord Voldemort at the end of their First Year was truly the least dangerous thing Harry had done since he reentered the Wizarding World and sometimes, he even felt a pang of regret. It was only there for a fleeting moment, barely long enough for him to register it, but it came and went. Guilt washed over him even at the mere thought of his fleeting regret- Hogwarts was, there was simply no doubt, the knight in shining armor he had wished for since he was four years old. A magic school, where _Harry_ , of all people, was considered a hero, most of the time at least. It had, in the giant form of Hagrid, rescued him on that stormy, rainy night of his eleventh birthday, and had taken him away to become someone great, someone admirable. He had met Ron and Hermione there, the first friends Harry ever had, and had given him the Weasleys to make up for his lack of a family of his own. But it had also thrown him into a world where he was expected to _be_ the hero they saw in him. It had burdened him and had put the fate of an entire society onto his shoulders before sending him off with a pat on his head into a life where his every movement was carefully observed and reported. And he _hated_ it. He hated what all those burdens had done to him, the way his childhood had been ripped away so carelessly as though he didn't matter at all. He didn't matter, he knew. _Harry Potter_ , the Boy-Who-Lived, mattered a lot to many people who admired him and his heroic deeds but _Harry_ was nothing to them.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted, effectively pulling him out of his bitter thoughts.  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

He hated calling the man that- they weren't even related and were it not for his Aunt Petunia, Harry doubted he would've ever laid eyes on the man that was more whale than human.

"Get down here!"

 _Get down here_ were words that could often be heard within Number 4's walls and were, more often than not, directed at Harry. Uncle Vernon, for as long as Harry could remember, only spent a very limited time on the second floor- namely the night. In fact, Harry was sure that his cousin's father only ventured up the stairs once a day at around nine pm when he, after another of his so-called _'tiring'_ days at work, turned in for the night. In truth, Harry doubted that Uncle Vernon's work was truly that tiring, if at all. Sitting behind a desk all day couldn't be much work, he figured, and shouting at his employees would only cause his voice to tire, not his already dull mind.

"You. Garden. Now," Uncle Vernon said as soon as Harry entered the living room.

The blond-haired man was sat on the horrendously colored couch that his aunt had bought sometime last year, his watery eyes only glancing away from the telly to glare at Harry when he didn't immediately jump into action. "Well? What're you waiting for? Go!" Crumps shot out of his thick mustache as he talked and Harry was out of the house before Uncle Vernon could spot his barely suppressed grin.

The sky outside was clear and blue and decidedly owl-free, not that he had expected it to be different. This summer, on top of being quite possibly the worst he ever had, was shaping out be a summer of complete and utter isolation from the Wizarding World, not unlike the summer after his First Year. Back then, it had been Dobby's fault that none of his letters reached him but this time around, Harry knew that there was no house elf standing watch outside his window to grab unsuspecting owls out of the air.

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry sighed. Dudley, his cousin, had returned from Smeltings a good few days before Harry had taken the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross Station and, now that they were almost two weeks into the holidays, had had plenty of time to reform his old group of bullies. Dudley was a lot like Uncle Vernon- big, blonde and empty-headed. Privet Drive was full of people with big and empty-headed sons and because Dudley was bigger and dumber than them all, they had crowned him their leader years ago, when they were still in primary school.

"Yeah, Diddydums?"

Interestingly, Dudley's face turned the same shade of purple as Uncle Vernon's did when Harry riled him up.

"Don't call me that!"

Harry cocked an eyebrow and brushed his hands off his pants as he stood up. His cousin was only one month older than him but towered him by almost a full head- Harry's head, that is, because Dudley's head alone was the size of a watermelon. Even Dudley's smallest friend, a rat-faced boy named Piers, was a good bit taller than Harry.  
"What should I call you then? Big D? Where'd that come from anyways?"

"Get him, Big D," Malcolm whispered, ignoring Harry's snort.

"Yeah, you won't let that freak talk to you like that, will you?"

"Course not," Dudley said though his voice was a lot less certain than his goons'. It almost reminded him of Draco Malfoy's voice back when Ron had accepted the Wizard Duel Malfoy had challenged Harry to in First Year.

"Yeah, Big D," Harry quipped, shoving his hand into the pocket where he kept his wand. Dudley's piggy eyes followed the movement. "Show me."

Dudley shook his head and backed away, dragging his friends with him. As they went, Harry could hear Dudley promise them that they'd get him another time, when he wasn't in the Dursleys' backyard where his parents could see. Harry doubted it- ever since he had returned from Diagon Alley on July 31st, 1991 with his brand new wand, Dudley had carefully chosen his battles or had carefully avoided them, rather.

Magic couldn't solve all problems, despite what the Dursleys thought. If it could, Harry would've brought his parents back to life a long time ago and would've turned his relatives into slimy slugs the moment he didn't need to live with them anymore. They were a rather annoying constant in his life, especially Dudley. Even at Hogwarts, he had to deal with the likes of Dudley- mostly in the form of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy and Dudley were, he concluded as he pulled the weeds out of the ground, almost like two sides of the same coin. Both were full of themselves and would absolutely hate the other for their blood if they ever met. The only difference was that Malfoy's head wasn't full of hot air, loath as Harry was to admit that- and that Malfoy looked actually like a human if one didn't look at his ears too closely.

He looked up sharply as a silent, almost unnoticeable _Crack!_ reached his ears. Right beside him, as though out of thin air, a note had appeared. He grabbed the parchment out of the air before someone could see. It was a short note, not from his friends, for he didn't think he knew that handwriting, and written in black ink.

 _Potter,_

 _Pack your trunk and be ready to leave by midnight._

 _SS_

SS? Harry frowned. There was no way of determining the author of the note, he knew, but he could easily figure out who _hadn't_ sent the note- namely, everyone he trusted.

He didn't know who had sent the message but one thing was clear- he wouldn't be ready to leave by midnight but he would be ready to fight.

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 **A bit longer than the last one. These first chapters are meant to set the scene though and, anyways, quality over quantity, aye? Now we at least now that Lucius has a conscious and that Harry's already the angst-ridden, depressed little sod JKR presented us with in Book 5. Also, I'm currently trying to work out a posting schedule that works for me. I'm in 12th grade and thus, my schedule at school is completely crazy this year since the teachers are trying to cram in a lot of stuff for the exams next year (my school has 13 grades instead of 12) and on top of that, I tutor an 8th grader at least once a week. I've also got some other stuff coming up. So...I'll try my absolute best. I should be able to upload every Saturday though, sometime between noon and midnight, German time. Thanks!  
**


	3. Draco's Story

When Lucius was a little boy, before he understood the responsibilities of his name, he loved to dream of the future. He would spend hours over hours sitting cross-legged on Cicero's bed, telling him all about the life he would one day lead whilst his brother listened. He would talk of grand weddings and flocks of children that were all sorted into Slytherin House, a future in which the name of Malfoy was synonymous with 'hero' because of Lucius' great deeds that were comparable to Merlin himself. In his fantasies, all the beautiful witches, even Martha Parkinson, preferred him over Cicero because, in the future, Lucius would grow taller than his big brother.

Over time, his stories had lost their adventurous streak and ceased to resemble the fairy tales their mother used to read them and with every new story he told, there was another touch of realism that hadn't been there before. Someday, even that vanished and Lucius stopped telling stories and indulging his fantasies.

The very last story he had ever told his brother had been the most solemn of them all, a tale lined with heartbreak, death and destruction and he had told it kneeling in the mud before his brother's grave. Clutched in his hands, so tightly that they were all worn, were the tiny bracelets Eoin and Finian had worn for a mere hour. They had been a peace offering, sent to them by Cissy's muggle-loving sister, and had almost been thrown out, for no other reason than spite. They had only ended up keeping them because Cissy's water broke the second Lucius had called for Dobby. The boys were two months early- a result of them being twins, they had been ensured, and quite normal- and they, in their rush to get to St. Mungo's, hadn't thought to bring the personalized blankets with them. When the boys came out looking very much identical- well, Lucius really didn't think they'd had any other choice but put the bracelets on them. They had been his most treasured possession ever since, for they were all he had to remind himself that Eoin and Finian were truly real.

He held onto the bracelets tightly as he sat down with his wife and their son, a few hours after he had returned from Hogwarts.

"What is it, Father?" Draco drawled. "If I want to beat Potter next year, I have to practice-"

He held up the hand that wasn't holding the nametags to silence his son. Ever since the beginning of his First Year, all Draco seemed to talk about was _stupid Potter_ with his _broom_ and the _fame,_ and Lucius was growing tired of it- especially now. "This is more important than your schoolboy feud, Draco," he took a deep breath. "Do you remember how sick you used to be when you were a small boy?"  
"Of course. I'm not relapsing, am I? Uncle Sev said it was unlikely-"

"No, you're not relapsing. When- When you were sick, a few months after we found out about your illness, your mother and I decided that the only way to ensure our line's continuity was to…to have another son."

"Lucius, we agreed-"

He looked at his wife with grievous eyes. His wife, who had borne him his three sons and who had suffered so badly after their twins were taken. "It needs to be done. You will understand soon."

"You didn't have another son, though," Draco said before Lucius could continue. "I'm your only child."

"You're not. We raised you in that belief to spare you the pain. You were only four months old when we found out that your mother- she was pregnant. We were overjoyed-"

The boy jumped up, his face growing unnaturally red. "Overjoyed that you could replace me? I'm your firstborn!"

"Yes, you are. And we never intended to replace you-"

"What did you need another son for then? Malfoys only have one son!"

Narcissa laid her hand on the boy's arm- she had always had a very calming effect on their son that Lucius could never hope to imitate. "That's not true, Draco, and you know that. We have taken you to your uncle's grave before."

"He's an exception."

"Cicero was your grandfather's firstborn, so I was the exception," Lucius corrected off-handedly. "But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that we didn't intend to replace you. We simply wanted to ensure that our line would survive and another child would be necessary for that. Even if you hadn't been sick, we would've given you a sibling sooner or later."  
"Well, what happened then? There's no other kid around here."

Narcissa nodded. "When we went to see a Healer, she told us that I was with twin boys. I'm ashamed to say that our joy was dimmed by the prospect of two more sons instead of one but as time went by, we got used to the thought and couldn't wait to hold both of them in our arms."

"Two brothers. I have two brothers and you never thought to tell me? Where are they? Have you hidden them away, are they squibs?"

When looking at his son, especially since his eleventh birthday, Lucius had often wondered where they had gone wrong with him- he was an arrogant child, who took too much pride in his name and too little in his accomplishments. He was disruptive and impulsive, with a temper that oftentimes rivaled that of Potter, and had, within the last four years, turned into a deeply troubled boy. He knew that they had wronged him but never had he imagined that his own son thought their love was conditional.

"Draco, we would never abandon our child, no matter whether they had magic," he said but he could see that Draco didn't believe him. Sighing, he thrust the tiny bracelets into his son's hand, who held them cautiously.  
"Eoin," he read, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation. "Finian," he looked up. "Are those their names?"  
"Yes. Those are the names we gave them upon their birth but they carried them for only an hour. They were kidnapped, taken from St. Mungo's when I went to fetch you and Severus."

"Why're you telling me now? What has changed?"

At least, they hadn't neglected Draco's intellectual growth as they did his emotional, he thought sourly as he nodded. "Severus has found Eoin."

Cissy gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth.

"After he was taken from us, he was given an aging potion along with a new identity to make other people believe he was someone else's son. He started Hogwarts along with you, Draco."

"Who is he?"

"The name he grew up with is Harry James Potter."

* * *

His head was aching something terrible by the time he settled down in his office, almost ten hours after he had informed Narcissa and Draco of Severus' findings. His wife had been numb, had retracted into her own mind almost immediately to deal with the new situation but Draco, impulsive, angst-ridden Draco, had raved and yelled for hours, had shouted at both his parents for not telling him about his twin brothers. Once he realized his mother's state, almost one hour into his ravings, he concentrated his efforts on Lucius only. Lucius had endured his son's angry antics- it was, after all, partly his fault and Draco had all rights to be angry with them. He had listened patiently, with only the occasional cringe when Draco hit a nerve with him, until his shouts had ceased and turned into desperate pleas instead. _Anyone but Potter,_ he had pleaded. _Absolutely anyone but him_.

Lucius doubted whether Draco truly meant that- he knew very well that the boy would probably have reacted even more poorly had the Longbottom boy turned out to be one of his brothers- Lucius himself had entertained that thought shortly, knowing that the boy's birthday was the day before Harry Potter's, but knew that Severus would've checked. He was glad, he had to admit, for he had heard the horror tales of the boy's clumsiness and overall uselessness when it came to any magic but herbology, which, truth be told, wasn't magic at all. A squib son, he could live with. He could even love a son who was absolutely useless- that didn't mean, however, that he couldn't be glad that his boys weren't like that. Although, he supposed, he ought to be grateful to the boy as well- he knew all about Weasley abandoning his son out of jealousy after Halloween but the Longbottom boy had stayed loyal and even attempted to help him. His sons, Eoin and Draco alike and perhaps Finian too, would need loyal friends in the years to come and, anyways, Longbottom was the heir of a Noble and Ancient House. Having their houses connected through friendship would be worthwhile- no. He was getting ahead of himself. His son wasn't yet aware of his true identity and once he was, Lucius was sure he would react just as poorly as Draco had, maybe even worse. He had to take it step by step.

It was getting close to eleven when the fireplace finally roared and spit Severus onto his carpet- the younger man, despite regularly using the floo, could still often be found lying on the floor, caught off-guard by the fireplace's push.

"Severus," he greeted with a nod. "I trust you have news for me?"

"Few that will please you," Severus said. "I have decided to forgo our earlier plans."

"What? What have you done?"

"Calm down, Lucius. I have sent the boy a note, telling him to be ready to leave by midnight. I shall go pick him up then."

"How did you even find out where he lived? And what makes you believe he will go along with you? Everyone knows that the boy can't stand you."  
"I never said that I was going to give him a choice. He is but a child and he will do what I tell him to do. As to the matter of finding him- I happened to come across Mundungus Fletcher earlier today, who, it seems, was set to watch Potter's residence tonight. It was…rather easy to persuade him to sit this one out. You do owe him ten galleons, though."

"I don't care for the money," he waved his hand. "Have you made any progress regarding Finian?"

"None. I was thinking, however, that if you use your influence, you could get the Department of Child Welfare to conduct a nationwide search- make all registered boys between the ages of thirteen and fifteen take a paternity potion."

"We'd certainly get all the homeschooled boys that way," he nodded, silently chastising himself for not thinking of this when Fudge the fool had first been elected. "We could have Eoin go there as Potter, they can't deny that he is a Malfoy if they find out for themselves."

"Quite right."

* * *

As the clock struck midnight, Harry sat awake in his room at Number 4. Not too long ago, this room used to be Dudley's second bedroom, for all the toys his cousin broke and abandoned within two weeks of getting them. He had only gotten it because the Dursleys were afraid of what might happen if anyone found out about the cupboard- another good thing Hogwarts had caused to happen, even though Harry wasn't quite sure why no one at school had seemed to care at all that his bedroom used to be the cupboard under the stairs.

He was perched upon his trunk, which he hadn't unpacked in the first place, ready to leave, just in case someone trustworthy did turn up. His wand was already tightly clutched in his right hand. It would only take a swift flick of his wrist to disarm any enemies.

The entire day had been spent trying to figure out who had sent the message but, no matter how much he concentrated, he simply couldn't come up with a solution. There were several professors at school whose last name started with an S, he knew, like Sprout, Snape and some woman called Sinister, whom Hermione occasionally mentioned, but none of these were very likely to be _SS_. He didn't know any of their first names but even so he felt certain that he could cross them off his list- Sprout and Sinister simply didn't seem the type to get involved in a war and the mere thought of Snape as his savior – _Snape_ , of all people – was ridiculous above all. The man hated him, absolutely despised him, and Harry truly couldn't say the feeling wasn't mutual. Snape had had it out for him ever since they first met. No, the potions professor was far more likely to take pleasure in Harry's plight than attempting to save him from it.

He perked up as he heard a _pop_ sound outside his room. Had Hermione been there, she would've surely been able to tell him exactly what sort of magic made that noise. Harry certainly didn't know. He stood up and raised his wand, listening closely to any more sounds. He could hear Uncle Vernon and Dudley snoring quite clearly tonight- he was usually very adept at ignoring them, though maybe not quite as good as his aunt, but tonight, their breaths seemed louder. Harry supposed that might've been because he was _listening_ for any disturbance of the nightly peace, something he wasn't prone to do otherwise. Any other night, he would be in bed, either wide awake in fear of falling asleep or already trapped in a fitful slumber he refused to call rest.

The door opened painstakingly slow. Harry tensed- a figure entered, clothed entirely in black, as dark as the shadows around him and almost unrecognizable.

"Snape!" He exclaimed, lowering his wand slightly. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment, the professor seemed almost startled at Harry's shock before curling his lips into the sneer he was all too familiar with.  
"You have obviously received my message-"

" _Your_ message?"

Snape snarled. "Are you telling me that you did not recognize my handwriting? You have seen it for four years unless you never bothered to read the lengthy notes I always add to your essays-"

"I've read them," Harry lied quickly.

"Then you should have recognized the handwriting as my own."

"Well-"

"Are you ready to leave?" Snape asked. "Professor Dumbledore has _specifically_ ordered for you to be moved within minutes."

Harry frowned. "Dumbledore-"

" _Professor_ Dumbledore."

"Yeah, he told me that I couldn't leave Privet Drive before my birthday."

"He changed his mind. Unless you wish to stay in this place until summer is over?"

"No!" Harry said. "I'm ready."

"Good, we have to haste now," Harry thought that might've been a lie since Snape had obviously had time to argue with him. "Where is your owl?"

"What?"

"You are in possession of an owl, are you not? Where is it?"

"I sent her to Ron. The Dursleys didn't like having her around."

"Very well. Hold onto your trunk and my arm and _do not let go_. That is of uttermost importance, do you understand me?"

"Yes."

He hesitatingly reached out to grab Snape's upper arm, barely refraining from flinching when the man, in turn, held onto his as well, way tighter than Harry. They turned on the spot and his room disappeared- he felt as though he was being squeezed through a tube that wasn't meant to let anyone remotely human pass. His organs felt squished and his vision went blurry as beams of color shot past them. He let go of Snape's arm as soon as the squeezing stopped and wrapped an arm around his upset stomach. His other hand still clutched onto the trunk for stability. The first thing he noticed when the dizziness finally went away was the polished marble floor beneath him. The room he was in had an almost gloomy feel to it, not at all homey like the Burrow, yet not as distant as he had always imagined mansions to feel. His eyes finally landed on the two people standing a few feet away from him and he barely had enough time to recognize Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's Death Eater father, when a spell hit him in the back. He fell forward but before he even hit the ground, he was succumbed by blackness.

* * *

 **Alrighty then, a couple of you guys asked some pretty relevant questions that I can answer already (some of them were answered already but y'know) IF YOU DON'T WANT ANY SPOILERS, DON'T READ THIS!  
**

 **1\. Is Harry gonna turn around and just forgive them? Nope. As I said, he's an angst-ridden, depressed little sod and the Malfoys are part of the reason for why he's like that. He hates them with a passion and won't just forget everything that happened. However, for my plot to work, Harry will be a little more cooperative than you'd expect him to be. That is because he will discover his Slytherin side.  
**

 **2\. Who's Finian? Now, any of you who checked out my profile will know that I really like to use OCs. This is also the case here. Finian is going to be an OC of mine for several reasons. First off, I wanted Eoin (Harry) to be found some time before Finian but the only way I could make this work was if Finian wasn't at Hogwarts (for reasons you'll discover later on). Since there aren't any homeschooled wizards we know of, I decided to make my own. However, Finian grew up as the relative of a very important character. Neville isn't the twin (though I played with the thought but dismissed it obviously) but will still play a big part.**

 **3\. How come Draco and Harry are in the same year? I answered this question in this chapter. Eoin was given an aging potion (conveniently, aging potions do exist in the HP universe as seen in GoF), the reasons for which will come up soon. Ergo, Eoin and Finian are younger than Draco, having been born on July 31st, 1981.**

 **4\. How do they know Harry is Eoin and not Finian? One word- Fraternal. (more later)**

 **Oh, also, Cicero's gonna be relevant for Lucius' backstory though as of now, I don't plan on exploring his character further than that.**


	4. One of Hatred

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!" Lucius roared, striding past Severus and his stunned son. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Potter still had his wand," Draco shrugged, slipping his own wand back into its holster. "If you think he wouldn't have attacked you as soon as he saw you-"

Cissy stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder, effectively cutting him off before he could explode at their son. "Draco, dear, go to your room. Your father and I will talk to you about this tomorrow."  
Draco nodded and walked up the stairs, not even glancing at his brother. As soon as he was out of earshot, Lucius ran his hand through his hair and looked at Severus, who had hefted Potter into his arms. "What was he thinking?"

"He was trying to protect you. He's right, Potter would've attacked you. It was foolish of me not to confiscate his wand but that would have surely tipped him off- although one can never know with that boy."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He won't trust us now."

"He wouldn't have before."

"That doesn't mean it's alright for Draco to alienate him further!"

Truly, he couldn't begin to imagine what had gone through his oldest son's head- even he should've known that they couldn't afford to deepen the boy's mistrust in them, especially after the events on that wretched graveyard that, Lucius knew, had provided Potter- Eoin- with more than enough reason to keep them at a healthy distance.

It was hard to think of the boy as Eoin, he realized as he looked at the child. He looked all Potter, the perfect copy of his alleged father. A bit too perfect- no child could possibly look so much like one parent and so little like the other. Not even Draco did and he had certainly inherited most of his looks from Lucius' side of the family.

The boy looked nothing like Draco. His hair was dark and tousled, without so much as a speck of blonde in them, and his skin fair but not pale. He had a rounded face, marred by tiredness and deep circles underneath the eyes that he knew to be the green emeralds of Lily Potter. His cheeks were hollow- Draco's were too but on the older boy, it looked natural, not sickly. He was small for a boy of almost fifteen- it was to be expected, of course, given that he _was_ , in fact, about to turn fourteen instead of fifteen- but he was still worryingly thin. He might have inherited that from his mother, he mused as he eyes Cissy's slim figure.

"Shall I take him upstairs?" Severus asked.

He hesitated and shook his head. "Maybe we should wake him. Having him wake up in the morning, not knowing where he is but remembering that he had been attacked, wouldn't do us any good. We should exercise some damage control while we still can- who knows what sort of theories he will come up with if left alone."

Severus snorted. "Believe me, he comes up with those at every waking second. The conspiracies he and his friends have dreamed up are quite fascinating-"

"According to Draco and various Board members, and you, if I may remind you," he said pointedly. "They have uncovered a few conspiracies as well and one happened to involve me in the role of the villain. Their success will only serve to encourage him."

Despite what Potter and his friends surely thought, Lucius _hadn't_ known what havoc the diary would create. He had thought it would simply get the Muggleborns expelled, perhaps a few killed, and Dumbledore removed as Headmaster. Of course, Potter wouldn't like those reasons any better, but had Lucius known that he would put Draco- and Eoin, apparently- in danger, he would never have given the thing to the Weasley girl. That was the year that had seen Potter fall out of grace- he had been actively excluded by all students but his friends. At the time, he had thought Potter's new status as an outsider- dark wizard even- had joyed him. He had thought it to be a quite pleasant side-effect. Now knowing that he had put his own son out there and had allowed and even encouraged others, especially Draco, to treat him as someone lesser, someone despicable, made his stomach churn. It was one of his many failures regarding his sons.

"Still," Severus said. "The second he comes to, he will think you the enemy and himself the hero. He has a nasty habit of doing so."

"Well, what would you have me do then? He will think of something, no matter if we wake him now or wait until tomorrow."

Cissy nods. "Then we might as well let him sleep. Look at him, Lucius, he's exhausted. Lory!"

Lory, the young house elf they had gotten after Potter had ridden them off Dobby, appeared. Like Dobby before her, she wore a simple grey pillowcase for clothing- he remembered quite clearly that Potter had been especially smug after freeing Dobby and Lucius, enraged at being outsmarted by a twelve-year-old, had treated Lory the exact same as Dobby. The she-elf, however, didn't seem inclined to leave them anytime soon though if Lucius knew his son, he'd try to free her as well, and all other elves with her, if they didn't keep him away from them.

"Mistress has called Lory?"

"Have you done as you were told?"

Lory nodded. "Lory has set up a room for Master Eoin, next to Master Draco's, Mistress Narcissa."

"Good," Cissy said. "I want you to put a monitoring charm on Eoin's room and connect it to ours. Take his trunk to his room as well."

The little elf bowed deeply. "Right away, Mistress Narcissa."

With a snap of her fingers, Lory and Potter's trunk disappeared. He walked over to Severus and hefted his son into his arms. "Do you really think it's wise to put Draco and Pot- Eoin right next to each other?"

"They will have to get used to one another sooner or later," Cissy shrugged. "Thank you for your help, Severus. Would you like to stay the night? I'm sure you could be of help tomorrow when we break the news to him."

Severus nodded curtly and, together with Lucius, walked up to the third floor, where all their bedrooms were located. The room Narcissa had chosen for their son was very nice indeed, although Lucius doubted that the boy would appreciate the choice of color- the walls were painted a moss green, that he found very calming, and was accented by different shades of black- most probably a bit too Slytherin for Potter's quite excessive Gryffindor senses.

He laid the boy onto the King sized bed, waved his wand over him to change him into comfortable clothing and draped the blanket over him. He stared down at the child sadly- it was the first time he had ever tucked in his middle son and yet, it felt strange, unreal.

"We need to get the glamour off him," he said, turning to face Severus. "He looks too much like Potter for me to see my son in him."

Severus curled his lips. "I quite agree."

Lucius knew of Severus' hatred for anything Potter, of course, and that his son had been on the receiving end of that hate was no secret either. He could only hope that Severus would be able to lay aside his grudge once the boy looked like his godson and that he would finally look into that boy's face and see his own son once more.

* * *

Harry groaned as the persistent glow of the sun slowly drew him out of his oddly peaceful sleep. He turned around, set on making it last just a little longer, and pushed his face deeper into the soft, cuddly pillow but stopped short, blinking his eyes open to stare at the large windows, that were unlike the one he had at the Dursleys and even the rather small frames that lit his dorm in Gryffindor Tower at school. He sat up, staring down at the pillow he had tried to disappear into just a second ago- there were, at least, five others set up around him, all of different sizes but a similar, almost too closely matching beige color. He wasn't at the Dursleys, he realized as a picture of Snape and Lucius Malfoy appeared inside his head- and if everything went according to Malfoy's plan, Harry would probably never return there.

He jumped up, grappling for his glasses, and looked around the room. It was big and airy, not anything like the dungeon he thought he'd end up in if Malfoy ever got his hands on him but certainly Slytherin enough for him to know that he was still at wherever the Malfoys lived- probably some grand mansion where Draco dearest was served by heaps of poor house elves, so many that Hermione would have a right field day trying to save all of them. Harry couldn't really blame her- he'd seen how terrible they'd treated Dobby and to assume that they had since changed would be as realistic as Voldemort having a change of heart.

Deciding not to bother with the door, he walked over to the window, grasped the handle and pulled at it as hard as he could. It didn't even budge, though Harry supposed that the Malfoys would've to be plenty stupid to leave him with such an easy exit way.

"That won't open," a voice drawled behind him.

He let go of the window and turned around, feeling the anger rise up in him- he'd known Malfoy was a bloody Death Eater! He'd known all along, even that Snape wasn't as good as Dumbledore made him out to be, but no one had believed him and now he was stuck.  
"Dumbledore's not gonna let you get away with this," he spat, trying to stay calm at Malfoy's casual shrug. "And then everyone's gonna know that you're a bloody Death Eater."

"You might want to refrain from judging me until after I've told you why you're here."

"I know why I'm here."

"Is that so?"

Harry nodded. "You want to hand me over to your master like the good little lapdog you are."

"Again with the judging," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "Well, come along then and I'll tell you why you're really here."

He scoffed, resisting the urge to reach for the wand that wasn't there and crossed his arms instead. "I'm not bonkers."

"Now, where's your Gryffindor bravery? Alright, well, I promise I'm not going to hand you over to the Dark Lord," when Harry still didn't move, Malfoy sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Fine, I can tell you here as well but I'm sure you won't like what I have to say."

"Going somewhere else won't change that."

"Alright then. Don't say I didn't warn you, though," he took a deep breath, pushed himself forward and slowly walked closer to Harry. "My wife gave birth to twin sons on July 31st, 1981," Harry frowned. "Their names are Eoin and Finian. They were stolen from us one hour after their birth. Eoin, the older twin, was given to Lily and James Potter to replace their son, Harry, whom they had lost to cancer the day before."

They stood in silence for a few seconds as Malfoy's words registered in his mind. Harry could feel his face go red with rage. A wave of magic, greater than anything he had ever felt before, surged through him, flowed through his veins and quickened his heartbeat and then, the silence was broken by the sound of shattering windows as his magic exploded around them.

* * *

 **As always, I'd like everyone for favoriting/following/reviewing. It really does mean a lot.  
**

 **Last chapter, I answered a couple of questions. Throughout the last week, however, I've noticed that I may have rushed through them a bit. Everything I said last time still stands but I want to clarify a few things.**

 **In regards to Finian's identity; I realize that many people do not like stories that include OCs in a major role. I myself am, funnily enough, very nitpicky about them so I understand it fully. For that reason, I will try my absolute best to not get carried away with Finian. He will be an important character, of course, but not as much as Harry. There'll be a few chapters that will focus on Finian though and some that will be all about Draco, et al. I'm attempting to take a page outof George R. R. Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series, in which he puts the focus on a different character every chapter.**

 **About Harry being Eoin and not Finian; I've actually put quite some thought into this. As I said, they're fraternal and as such, they don't have the exact same set of genes. So, it is Harry's genetic code not his appearance that made it possible for Snapeto determine whether he is Eoin or Finian. I won't go into this further right now but I'm thinking it should come up soon.**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading!**


	5. One of Love

Her son's bedroom, used only for a single night, lay in ashes, destroyed by the boy it was designed for. The soft carpet she had personally chosen for this specific room was covered in debris. Only two spots, one by the window and the other beside the door, were almost untouched- they had found Lucius and Eoin in these spots, minutes after her son's magic had flowed through the house, an angry ripple that held no resemblance to the mild-mannered magical residue it left in its wake.

They hadn't been injured beyond a few superficial cuts and bruises that, she was sure, neither of them would care about once they woke up. Both were certainly used to worse- the very thought made her choke on her breath. Her baby boy, her tiny little son, was used to so much pain and sorrow. He had lost two pairs of parents, had been tortured and called a monster. For years, he had to adjust to the always changing moods of the Wizarding World, had to stand by and put on a brave face as they praised him one day and condemned him to hell the next. All of it, every second of her son's pain, could've been avoided so easily had they only watched out better. It was war, children were dying daily and Heads were desperate for heirs- why had they taken the risk of going to St. Mungo's when she could've borne her twins in the safety of their home?

"They should awake any second now," Severus said from underneath the doorway. "May I suggest not taking such a brash approach this time?"  
"We didn't intend to," she snapped, turning around to face her boys' godfather. "Lucius was supposed to take Eoin to the study so we could explain."

He shrugged. "Potter must have aggravated him. He has that effect on people."

"His name is Eoin and I'm sure it's only you he has that particular effect on. We both know why his every word angers you so, Severus, you cannot hope to play your games with me."

"Either way," he said. "I'm sure there was no reason for…him to lose control over his magic. He is fourteen, he should know-"

She stepped closer to him. "Severus, my son is a thirteen-year-old boy who was forced to practice magic before he was ready and you know it. I will not stand by and listen to you insult my child over a petty schoolboy feud you had with his adoptive father. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go see my husband and son. Why don't you check on Draco? He's been awfully quiet this morning."

She strode past Severus, ignoring his grumbled response, and headed for the Manor's rather small infirmary. For years, they'd had no reason to enter that particular wing of the castle, run by a specially trained elf her son had long ago dubbed 'Doc'. Last she'd been inside, it had been four-year-old Draco who had been sprawled on one of the beds, on the day she thought she'd lose him forever. His fever had risen quickly and his breath had slowed at a similar speed. They hadn't taken him to St. Mungo's that day- the Healer had warned them beforehand that her son's final day might be closing in on him and that the least they could do was letting him die in the comfort of his own home. It had been the last time Draco's sickness had plagued him. When she had awoken the next morning, having fallen into a fitful slumber with her head on Draco's bed, it was to her boy's beautiful grey eyes looking down at her in confusion. They were dull and weary, still sort of glassy from the fever he had suffered, but they were open and her child was alive. He had never fallen sick again, not with the illness that had threatened to take him from them for so long.

This time, it was her middle child lying inside the hall, in the very same bed that had nearly become Draco's deathbed. He wasn't in any danger, she knew, yet it was discomforting to see him lying in that bed.

"How are they, Doc?" She asked, wincing at the moniker. When Draco had chosen it, he had been only three years old and that blasted godfather of his had filled his head with stories of the Muggle World and Draco, in his childish wonder, had decided that their healing elf should wear the title of a Muggle Healer. They hadn't had the heart to say no to their dying boy and so the elf was named Doc.

"Masters Lucius and Eoin are doing very well, Mistress Narcissa," the elf said, bowing as deeply as he could. "Their waking is not long now."

"What about Eoin's magic? Any damages done?"  
"None, Mistress Narcissa. Master Eoin's magic will simply need to be rested for a few days."

She nodded curtly. "You may go."

"Cissy," Lucius croaked, mere seconds after Doc disappeared. He cleared his throat and sat up, one hand massaging his temple. "I messed this up, didn't I?"

"You did," she smiled at him softly. "What happened? You were supposed to bring him to the study, Lucius, not make him lose control."  
"Interesting, though, wasn't it? He was forced to control his magic one year too early, something like this was bound to happen sometime. Though if it helps you in any way, I did not mean to force him into unleashing his magic. I was simply getting frustrated with that thick head of his."

"No, it doesn't help at all," she lowered her voice. "Lucius, we have to watch ourselves very carefully around Eoin because he will watch us even closer. He will look out for anything he can use against us, anything that confirms him in his belief that we are evil liars."

A quiet, obviously unintended huff directed their attention toward Eoin's bed. The boy, realizing he had given up his game, sat up and hastily climbed out of bed, one hand clutching the side table as he swayed.

"Eoin-"

"My name is Harry," he snapped. "I'm not your bloody son and I don't need anything to know that you're as evil as they come."

She sighed and walked over to her son, who side-stepped her outreached hand easily.  
"Harry," she said, the name burning her throat more than Doc's could ever hope to manage. "I know this sounds ridiculous and unbelievable-"

"It _is_ ridiculous! Why are you doing this? Answer me! Has Voldemort put you up to this?"  
"Don't speak his name, boy," Lucius snapped. "You have no idea of the power a name holds-"

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Eoin said in the tone of someone quoting something he had heard over and over again.

"Child, what interest would the Dark Lord have in making you believe we are your true parents?" She asked before Lucius could come up with a retort, ever so quick to let Eoin, or Potter, rather, get to him.

Eoin cocked an eyebrow and looked at her as though she was particularly slow. "To get to me. Make me vulnerable."

"You are but a boy. If the Dark Lord wanted you vulnerable, he'd simply take your wand from you."

"Yeah? Voldemort didn't seem to think killing me was that simple on the graveyard. I saw how you shook when he talked to you. You're afraid of him and what he'll do to you if you don't please him. If you think I'll let you hand me over to him-"

Narcissa rolled her eyes- at the very least, she was now sure that Eoin had inherited Lucius' stubborn head that, at times, was even thicker than Yaxley's.  
"Eoin- Harry, I assure you that we will not hand you over to anyone. I know you don't believe me but we don't wish for any harm to come to you."  
"He didn't seem to think so when he cheered Voldemort on and told him to kill me," Eoin said, his voice both accusing and determined. "Or when he gave a dangerous diary to my best friend's little sister and nearly killed my other best friend because of it. And when I freed Dobby, he tried to attack me, right in front of Dumbledore's office."

She winced. Lucius had certainly left out a few details from the day they lost Dobby. "We didn't know that you were our Eoin-"

"And that makes it okay?" He shouted, his calmness, however badly faked, giving way to the temper Severus had reported on so often. "It's okay to want to kill a kid so long as it's not your kid? That's the most fucked up thing I've ever heard! What, will you just go back to trying to kill me when you give up this stupid game?"

"How can we prove it to you?" She asked. "Say the word and we will make it happen."

"Nothing because I'm not your-"

"-bloody son," Lucius finished. "Yes, Potter, we heard you the first time. Come now, surely the great Harry Potter can think of a way to prove his parentage?"

Eoin recoiled and narrowed his eyes in thought. Narcissa found herself wishing for her son's first eleven years that could've been so cleverly used to sharpen and broaden his mind but had instead served to dull it.

"I look just like my dad," he said finally, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "And I have my mum's eyes."  
Lucius shrugged, grasped the wand that lay beside his bed and waved it over him.

" _Facere Simulant._ "

In the spot where her platinum-haired husband had once stood was now a slightly taller man with hair only a few notches lighter than Eoin's and from the place from where Lucius' cold grey eyes had taken in his son's smirk shone playful blue eyes that looked upon Eoin kindly. Cicero had taken his younger brother's place.

"It's called a glamour," Lucius said, his voice higher than normal. "The spell translates to 'make pretend'. Easy enough to perform, even over longer periods of time. It would have been no trouble for anyone to turn you into James Potter's copy." He turned back into his old form.

"I was born one year before your sons, on July 31st, 1980. I'll be fifteen this summer, not fourteen."

"Aging potions do exist, you know. I hear that those friends of yours, the Weasley Twins, have used one themselves to enter the Tournament, if not quite successfully. Can you come up with no better ways?"

Eoin huffed and crossed his arms before uncrossing them to storm out of the infirmary in a rush. Narcissa summoned Lory, ordered her to watch out for Eoin and turned to face her husband.

"Lucius, can you just once listen to me and let me do the talking? Fine job you've done, really. All you ever do is get him angry, he'll never believe us that way!"

He ran a hand over his face, the smug grin wiped off and replaced by a weary frown. "I didn't mean to. He just- he looks so much like Potter."

"And since when does that bother you? You've never had any problem with James Potter beyond your different opinions-"

"Not that Potter! Cissy, how can I look at him and see my son when he still looks like Harry Potter? Every time I look into his face, all I can see is the boy I've treated like vermin and the boy I've seen tortured. Eoin is just a baby-"

"Get yourself together, Lucius," she demanded. "Eoin is not a baby anymore and the last he needs is for your ever changing moods! You could hold yourself together yesterday- now do it again!"

"Yesterday was before I saw the boy. I didn't know how hard this would be yet," he said. "Cissy, we have to make him look like Eoin again. It's- every time he's not around, it's so easy to think of him as my son but when I have to look into those green eyes that hate me so much- I can't help but see Harry Potter."

For as long as Narcissa could remember, bad blood had reigned the wizarding world. It had helped the Dark Lord rise to power and had given him too many supporters who, not unlike her, didn't know any better. Bad blood between the Dark and the Light, between the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore, had been the reason they had lost their twins and that very same bad blood, carried within the hearts of the boy known as Potter and the man named Malfoy, kept her husband and her second born son apart.

* * *

 **Bit of a filler, I'm afraid. Not every chapter can end in an explosion though, can it? So...yeah. I hope this chapter, as well as part of the previous one, explains Lucius' mood swings in regards to Harry a bit. Oh also, 'Facere Simulant' means 'make pretend'...according to Google Translate.  
**

 **Thanks for favoriting/following and special thanks to those of you who left a review! Much appreciated. :-D**


	6. Divided We Continue

Before Potter had arrived, breakfast had, despite the early hour, been Draco's favorite time of the day. It was only then that his mother and father were both sure to attend the meal instead of leaving the manor to do whatever it was they did when they weren't home and Draco did enjoy their undivided attention. His parents never treated him overly formal when in company of others, as other Lords and Ladies tended to do with their own children, but they never spoke to him as openly as they did when they sat around the breakfast table. It was refreshing, especially after spending most of his year at Hogwarts. He was well respected at school for his name and at first, Draco had enjoyed their respect just as greatly as he enjoyed his parents' company but these days, it was rather tiring- Pansy Parkinson, a fellow Slytherin, was most likely the sole reason he had grown weary of throwing around his name around the common room. She was clingy and annoying and Draco didn't even fancy her. To be back home, with his mother and father, was a reprieve that he appreciated above all.

Ever since Potter had arrived almost one week prior, however, breakfast with his parents had somewhat lost its appeal. For two days, the Gryffindor had simply refused to leave his repaired room, no matter the time. When Potter's third morning at Malfoy Manor began, his father had duly noted his absence and had quickly excused himself. Ten minutes later, he had returned, dragging a rather disheveled Potter by the elbow and had forced him to sit and eat. After that, Potter had refrained from locking himself in his room again and Draco began to see more and more of him as he skulked about the manor, most likely trying to find a way out. Either way, breakfast had turned into an awkward, tense affair that was over far sooner than it used to be and the only one attempting to initiate a conversation was his mother.

On Potter's sixth morning, a dull and rainy Tuesday, it was Father, however, who broke the tense silence. "Harry, Severus will take you to the Ministry today."  
They had, without asking for Draco's opinion, decided to call Potter by his fake first name. Draco knew that neither Father nor Mother, or Severus for that matter, were completely happy with this but had come the conclusion that neither Potter nor Eoin were appropriate ways to address him. Not when he threw a fit every time someone called him Eoin or Father and Severus' hostility that consistently got the better of them when they called him by his adopted parents' last name.

"What for?" Potter muttered. It was the first time he had spoken that day and Draco privately thought the silence rather suited him.

"The Ministry is holding a public search for Finian," Father explained. "And Eoin, of course, since they don't know yet that that's you. Every boy aged thirteen to fifteen will have to attend with the exception of Draco."

"How are they going to find out?" Draco asked when Potter, despite that look in his eyes, made no move to ask.

"They will test every boy's magical residue to see if the signature fits Finian's. Every boy will also be given a potion that will take down any glamours, just to make sure they don't overlook anything."

Potter glanced up from his still full plate. "Magical what?"

Father sighed, put his fork down and sat forward. "Magical residue. When a witch or a wizard performs an act of magic, they leave behind a trace. That trace is the magical residue and within that residue, one can find the so-called magical signature. No signature exists twice, except for that of identical twins. Every child's signature is registered when they are born."

"Every magical baby is born with one small act of accidental magic," Mother explained. "As the child grows up and starts controlling their magic, their initial signature starts to change a little. Most children in Britain attend Hogwarts during those formative years so the school keeps track of any changes in the magical signature of the students."

"Professor McGonagall usually takes care of this but this year, she had to leave that task to Severus. She must have known about your true parentage as the Great Book would obviously name Eoin Malfoy as the owner of your signature instead of Harry Potter and most likely forgot about it when she left Severus to take care of it."

Draco thought he understood rather well what Father meant to say with his accusation though he doubted Potter did- if McGonagall knew that Potter was his younger brother, then so did Dumbledore and if the old coot knew, he was most likely the one who took the twins in the first place.

* * *

Snape picked him up as soon as breakfast ended. They took the floo to the Ministry of Magic, right from Malfoy's office. It was the only fireplace that seemed to be connected to the floo network- Harry knew, he'd tried all others he could find. He wasn't sure if the Malfoys just generally didn't want all their fireplaces connected or if they had deliberately taken them out of the network once Harry had arrived, though the latter seemed much more believable.

The manor, as expected, was rather large, with long, confusing hallways that often seemed to go around in circles because he, more often than not, ended up wherever he had started. On the rare occasion that he stumbled upon a doorway leading out of the manor, the door was usually locked- an easy enough problem to take care of with a wand but he hadn't managed to find that either.

After deciding that escaping directly from wherever the Malfoys lived was near impossible, Harry had, for once in life, made a decision he thought Hermione would approve of- he laid low. He attended all meals the Malfoys required him to and when he wasn't in their company, he searched the manor. Sometimes he'd run into Malfoy but they never exchanged any words. He was, admittedly, relieved to find that Malfoy still hated him the same, though he kept it nicely wrapped up around his parents. Still, with Malfoy lurking around the manor, Harry couldn't even properly search for his wand.

Going to the Ministry with every other boy his age, however, meant that he was likely going to see Ron or Neville or anyone he knew at some point and once he had told them what was going on, they could inform Dumbledore, if the man didn't know already. Not to mention that they had also given him his wand back before sending him through the fireplace after Snape.

"Alright, Potter," Snape said as they stepped out of the fireplace into a crowded hallway, filled by hundreds of boys. He thrust a pin with Harry's name on it into his hand. "You are to stay here, is that understood? When it's your turn, your name will be called."

"Fine," he said, ignoring the greasy bat's glare in favor of looking around to see if he could find any familiar faces. He spied Ron and Neville down the hall with a group of boys Harry didn't think he'd ever seen before. He fought his way through the densely packed crowd, muttering apologies under his breath.

"Hey, Ron. Hey, Neville," he said once he had finally gotten through. Ron beamed at him, relief written all over his face.

"Harry! Finally! I've been here for ages, Dad took me when he went in this morning."

"Hello, Harry," Neville greeted with a small smile. He pointed at the brown-haired boy beside him. "This is my cousin, Nathan. He's homeschooled."

"I didn't know you had a cousin."

"We're actually second cousins once removed," Nathan said. "Most people wouldn't even count us as cousins. We've plenty second and third cousins that we don't count."

"Yeah, I think I'm their third cousin or something. All purebloods are related somehow." Ron added.

Before, that information would've made Harry wonder. He would've wondered if he had any relatives left, any family that wasn't the Dursleys. Now he knew but he wished he didn't. He would choose the Dursleys over the Malfoys any day. Before today, he could at least still tell himself that they were lying, that they were making this all up, but if they were going to such great lengths to not only prove their claim to him but also find the other boy- to hold onto his thought that they were lying would be foolish and naïve and those were two things Harry wasn't. They had to be very certain of their claim and once Harry took this test, there'd be no denying it. He'd even look like a bloody Malfoy.

His doubt regarding their claim had somewhat faded after meeting Mrs Malfoy. Despite being able to be obviously in love with a man as horrid as Malfoy, she reminded him a lot of Mrs Weasley. Of course, Mrs Malfoy was less physically affectionate but it was all there in her eyes. She looked at him the same she looked at her son, though sometimes Harry could've sworn he saw her look at him sadly. She never called him Potter either and after a while, she even stopped calling him Eoin. At every meal, she'd repeatedly ask him if he liked what was served and if he'd eaten his fill whenever he was done. One evening, when he was once again lost, she'd walked him to his room and asked him if he'd liked it or if he wanted to change anything- just to spite the her husband and son, he had told her he'd rather like his room to have a crimson and gold colour scheme. When he'd gone to bed the next evening, his room screamed Gryffindor. She didn't even have a Dark Mark- many of her dresses didn't have full sleeves or sleeves at all and her left arm was unmarked so she wasn't a Death Eater either.

They started calling up names soon. They went slowly, calling only one boy at a time but sooner than Harry would've liked, Neville and Nathan were gone and Harry was left with Ron.

"Ron," he said quietly, thinking of the mission he had set himself that morning. "You have to tell Dumbledore that I'm not at the Dursleys' anymore," when Ron only stared at him in confusion, Harry added, "Look, around a week ago, Snape came and got me. He said he was working for Dumbledore but he lied. He took me to the Malfoys."

"The Malfoys? You mean- you don't think they will hand you over to You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I don't know," he said, for he truly didn't know. "All I know is that they're very sure that I'm one of the twins."

"What?"

"You have to tell Dumbledore but don't tell anyone else, not even Hermione."

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, his face going horribly pale. "Mate, I'm not sure if Dumbledore can do a lot then."

It hit him like a punch- if Dumbledore wasn't able to help him, no one was. "Why not?"

"Because purebloods are protected by the law that way. Their claim to their biological children is more important than that of adoptive parents. It barely happens anymore because the only pureblood children that are given up for adoption are squibs but purebloods can always take their children back," Ron explained. "And the Malfoy twins were kidnapped. Technically, no one has a claim to them but the Malfoys. Plus, Malfoy Senior's got lots of influence with the Ministry. Dad was telling me this morning, they wouldn't do a search like this for any other kid. It's because Malfoy's got the Minister under his control."

He jumped as his name was called. "Tell Dumbledore anyways. Promise me. Ron, promise me!"

"I promise," Ron said hurriedly. Harry spun on his heel and fought his way through the crowd once more.

* * *

He was called into the room right after his cousin. He passed Neville, who had gone in with his face white as chalk and came out looking as though a heavy burden had been lifted off him. Neville had worried ever since the letters came- he was born almost exactly one year before the Malfoy twins and was one of the most likely candidates, along with Nathan himself. Even his grandmother Augusta, his father's cousin, would make occasional quips that it would certainly explain why Neville hadn't inherited any of his parents' talent- Nathan thought that was a bit harsh, even if his cousin wasn't the most talented wizard. He was certainly a genius when it came to plants, much more than even Augusta, and didn't do too bad with spells either.

The room that served as the testing room was small and cramped, not unlike the hallway he had just escaped. A table was set up in front of the only window. The sun shone through it brightly and it hurt Nathan's eyes to look at the three men that stood behind the table. Of the three, he only recognized Snape, the Potions Master that used to tutor him when he was younger- he still didn't regret angering the man into cancelling the classes, despite having earned his granddad's annoyance for it.

"Please state your name, age, birthday and titles," the smallest man said in a bored voice, not even looking up from his paper.

"Nathan Bernard Longbottom. I will be fourteen on August 20th," he hesitated. His granddad hadn't said anything about having to tell them his title.

"Title?"

"Heir Crouch," he blurted out.

The man finally looked up at him. "Crouch? You said your name was Longbottom, boy."

"It is. I'm in line for the Crouch title through my Grandma's line. She was the second child of Charis and Casper Crouch and after that dilemma with my first cousin twice removed..." _Crouch?_ Of all the titles he was in line for he chose _Crouch?_ Might as well have told them his actual dominant title, the press would now have a field day regardless.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Snape raise his eyebrow at him. Either the man thought him incredibly stupid for naming himself Heir Crouch or he thought him stupid for not asking his granddad for more information. Either way, he definitely thought him stupid.

The smallest man nodded, jotted something down and beckoned him to step forward. "Levitate this book for thirty seconds. Once you're done, lower it down and step over to Professor Snape."

Levitating had been one of the very first things his mum had taught him and so, Nathan hardly felt a pull at his magic as he performed the spell. He let the book hover around the room and steered it to fly circles above Snape's head. Once the thirty seconds were up, he dropped the book in front of the other two men, who immediately got working as Nathan stepped in front of Snape with a large smile.  
"Hello, Professor. Lovely day, is it?"

Snape scowled at him and quietly bottled a sample of the thick potion that was still simmering in a giant black cauldron and handed him the gooey mass. A lump formed in his throat the second the stench reached him and his stomach rumbled in protest. He raised the vial slowly. "Cheers."

Pressing his eyes together, he set the vial against his lips and threw his head back to get as much potion down in one go as he could. It still took him two more harsh swallows that threatened to acquaint the men with his breakfast eggs before he could throw the empty container into the trashcan beside him. The rumbling in his stomach grew fiercer and his bones ached horribly. A peeping in his ears drowned the muffled talking of the waiting boys.  
He heard one of the men say something. Another was suddenly in front of him and helped him onto the floor.

"Nathan?" He said. "Nathan, can you hear me?"

He could hear him just fine but his mouth, despite opening, refused to let even the tiniest sound out.

Snape spoke. "He's Finian."

Nathan didn't know if it were the professor's words or his icky potion that finally drowned him in eternal blackness.

* * *

 **Reviews are VERY appreciated :)**

* * *

 **So...Finian is Nathan Longbottom, first cousin once removed of Crouch Sr. and second cousin once removed of Neville. Arcturus and Lysandra Black had three daughters. The oldest, Callidora, married Harfang Longbottom. The second married Septimus Weasley and the youngest married Caspar Crouch. Harfang and Callidora had a son, Algie, and a daughter, Augusta. Algie never had any children so Augusta passed the Longbottom name on to her only son, Frank. Meanwhile, Caspar and Charis went on to have a son, Bartemius, and two daughter, Magdalena and Corinna. Bartemius had one son, Barty. Magdalena married Harfang's brother, Kendrick Longbottom, and had one son with him, Kelvin, who is the first cousin of Augusta and Algie through the Longbottom brothers. By the time of Kelvin's birth, Augusta already had a son named Frank. In 1980, Frank's son, Neville, was born. Through means yet unknown, Kelvin and his wife, whose own family tree will come up soon and is very important, adopted Finian Malfoy around Neville's first birthday. He's in line for lots of titles, as are pretty much all people who are at least half-blood. Most of his titles are unimportant but the dominant one will come up and is very important. This is not yet all there is to Finian's adopted family.**

 **About the narration- I will keep jumping back and forth between the characters but I figured it'd be helpful to know how I will refer to each character for now, since that may get confusion. So here goes:**

 **Harry/Eoin POV: Himself - "Harry", Lucius and Draco- "Malfoy", Narcissa - "Mrs. Malfoy", Severus - "Snape", Nathan/Finian - "Nathan"**

 **Nathan/Finian POV: Himself - "Nathan", Lucius, Narcissa and Draco - by their first names, Lucius on occasion "Malfoy", Severus - "Snape", Harry/Eoin - "Harry"**

 **Draco POV: Himself - "Draco", Lucius - "Father", Narcissa - "Mother", Severus - "Severus/(Uncle) Sev", H/E - "Potter", N/F - "Longbottom"**

 **Lucius POV: Himself - "Lucius", Narcissa - "Narcissa/Cissy", Draco and Severus - first names, H/E - "Eoin" and on occasion "Potter", N/F - "Finian" and on occasion "Longbottom"**

 **Narcissa POV: Herself - "Narcissa", Lucius, Draco, Severus - first names, H/E - "Eoin", N/F - "Finian"**

 **Severus POV: Himself - "Severus", Lucius, Draco, Narcissa - first names, H/E - "Potter" on occasion "Eoin", N/F - "Longbottom" on occasion "Finian"**

 **In case you'd like to know, I imagine Eoin Malfoy to look like a young Alex Pettyfer, Nathan Longbottom like Charlie Rowe in Never Let Me Go and Finian Malfoy like a young Austin Butler. Sort of.**


	7. The Three Brother's Story

The first thing he noted upon waking was not the strange room he was in or the strange boy in the other bed but the splitting headache that was almost, but not quite, as bad as the ones Voldemort tended to give him. His entire body throbbed in an odd sort of way that reminded him eerily of the pains that had plagued him every now and then ever since the Cruciatus Curse had been placed on him.

Having his identity tested had, overall, been a very quick process. Sure, not knowing his own title had been awkward and had left him feeling rather stupid but it passed soon enough and had been replaced by shock when they informed him that he was Lord Potter, in name at least, for someone else apparently took care of his responsibilities until he came of age. They had then asked him to perform some magic, a simple Levitation Charm that he had learnt at eleven years old, and had then been handed a potion by Snape. To his credit, the professor had warned him that changing his appearance would hurt but Harry was rather sure that he'd seen a malicious sort of gleam inside the greasy bat's eyes as he nearly choked on the thick, gooey mass.

As the pain slowly faded away, Harry opened his eyes and sat up.

"Oh, you're awake."

He startled around. Standing a few feet away from him, clad in only PJs, was a boy with blonde wavy hair and blue eyes. He looked to be around fourteen years, which, Harry duly noted, was his own real age- _Finian_ , his mind supplied. The boy looked a lot like Malfoy but only upon closer inspection. He was lanky but not too tall, probably an inch or two shorter than Harry was- used to be- and his skin wasn't as terribly pale as Malfoy's.

"Who're you then?"

"I-I'm, uh, Harry. I'm Harry."

"You sure?" The boy smirked at him and turned around to rummage in the drawer that stood behind him. "Because you don't really sound sure."

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, crossing the room to open the wardrobe. "Who're you then?"

"Nathan. You don't happen to know where our clothes have gone, do you?"

"You were awake before me."

Nathan shrugged. "Pity. I don't fancy being seen in my PJs and this stuff won't fit me- or you for that matter."

They abandoned their search and sat on their beds opposite each other and as Harry once again eyed the boy who had been born his twin brother, a thought came to him. "Nathan as in Nathan Longbottom?"

"Yeah," he nodded, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose you're Harry Potter then?"

"Yeah."

Nathan chuckled drily. "Bit ironic, is it? Gryffindor's Golden Boy is actually the son of a Death Eater."

"I'm not Gryffindor's Golden Boy."

"Sure you're not," Nathan shrugged again. "Still funny."

Harry didn't think it was funny in the least. No one would find it funny to be told that their entire life had been one big lie- no one but Nathan Longbottom, apparently.

When he had met Nathan, he had seemed to be rather like Neville, if not as shy as him, but now, as he was talking to him alone for the first time, the realization that the two cousins weren't alike at all came crashing down on him. It was disappointing, in a way. He would've liked a brother like Neville- he was a pretty good friend and doubtlessly one of the most trustworthy people he knew. Of course, Nathan did seem alright, even if his reaction to what was happening as highly inappropriate and nothing like the way Harry had reacted.

"Why don't you attend Hogwarts?" He asked, not really in the mood to pick a fight. "Neville does."

"That's because my grandmum isn't Neville's grandmum. I was supposed to go but then that thing with you and the Philosopher's Stone happened and grandmum decided that Hogwarts was too dangerous."

Hogwarts _was_ dangerous but most the time, Harry thought it wasn't too bad- if he ignored all those times everyone hated him. Some of the classes were quite fun. He had especially enjoyed his Third Year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It had been taught by Professor Lupin, one of his father's best friends, and had been the class he looked most forward to. Charms with Professor Flitwick and Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall weren't bad either and almost made up for Potions with Snape.

"What about your parents? Do they think it's dangerous too?"

"Dunno. They just said that if Grandmum thinks it's dangerous, they don't want me there. I'm their only son, see, and I'm in line for lots of titles."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're too, I guess. I'm in line for Potter too but I think I'm the 20th spare or something. Everyone who's at least half-blood is in line for a dozen or so titles. I get most of mine because my great-grandmother was born a Black."

One title was more than enough for Harry- he certainly didn't want any others. He hadn't even known about the Potter title let alone the many more Nathan spoke of. Would there be even more added now that the truth about their heritage was out?

"Will we be in line for Malfoy's title?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You're supposed to be Eoin, right?"

"Does that matter?"

"Of course. If I'm Finian, and I think I am, then you're before me. The birth order decides that. Draco Malfoy is Heir, of course. That'd make you scion and me first spare. We're also pretty far up the line for the Black title."

He sat back in a daze. He had known that things would change, of course, he'd known. But this- this was too much, too much in too little time. They couldn't expect that of him, they couldn't expect him to embrace all those changes. He didn't want them, had never asked for any of it. Sure, he'd wanted to be with his parents for as long as he could remember but he had meant the parents who had _died_ for him, not the man who was partially responsible for their death and his wife. Yes, he had wanted siblings and Nathan didn't seem too bad but he didn't want Malfoy as his friend, let alone his brother.

"Harry!" Nathan jumped up, pulled Harry off his bed and threw a blanket onto the fire. "What are you doing? Do you want to kill us?"

Harry didn't know where the fire had come from but he knew it had been him. He hadn't had control over his magic in days- maybe longer even. Last summer, he had accidentally blown up Aunt Marge without even meaning to.

"I- I didn't mean to," he said. "I can't control it. The other day, I exploded my entire room, it just happens."

Nathan frowned. "That's not supposed to happen. Did you tell anyone?"

"No, but the Malfoys know. I- I've known for a week now, about being Eoin, I mean, and when Malfoy told me, I lost control."

Nathan's lips formed a thin line that Harry thought was an oddly familiar expression but before either could say anything else, the door was pulled open and Mrs Malfoy and her husband stepped through.  
Mrs Malfoy stopped at the sight of them and brought her hand up to cover her mouth- he could only assume that she was overwhelmed. Aunt Petunia used to look like that whenever Dudley returned from Smeltings, as though she could hardly believe that _handsome young man_ was her _little baby boy_. Harry, of course, didn't think Dudley had ever been little, even as a baby, or would ever grow to be handsome.

"Which one of you is which?" Malfoy asked, looking between the two of them.

Harry made to answer but Nathan held up his hand and stepped forward.

"I demand to see my grandmother. She'll put an end to this rubbish."

"This is hardly rubbish," Malfoy said. He frowned at Nathan's laugh. "Nor is this a joking matter."

"Well, see, I'm not anyone. Neither is he, for that matter," he pointed at Harry. "We're both under the personal protection of Albus Dumbledore and when I tell you to let me see my grandmother, you'll do as I say or he'll-"

"I assume you're Nathan Longbottom then? Of course, who else would you be? Harry Potter doesn't know any of that, nor does he have a grandmother. Let me tell you one thing, Finian. No one but my wife and I holds claim to you and your brother. Not your grandmother, not Dumbledore. You may not like it but you'll learn to accept it-"

"Lucius," Mrs Malfoy chided. "Don't alienate them. Finian- _Nathan_ , I know this is a very bad situation for you but I think once you give it time and thought, you will come to understand that we are only doing what is best for you. Being Nathan Longbottom, or Harry Potter, isn't safe for you. We can protect you-"

" _What's in a name_?" Harry groaned- even _he_ knew that particular quote. " _That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet._ Giving us different names won't erase who we are. You can call us Eoin and Finian Malfoy but that won't mean that we've never been Nathan Longbottom and Harry Potter. You-Know-Who will still be after him and people would still seek to use me against my family. Our pasts won't lose their meaning if you change our words."

Use him against his family? Nathan hardly seemed important, not like Harry. His name had never come up before, Harry hadn't even known he existed before Neville introduced him and if people would use him to get to the Longbottoms, then Neville was in no less danger than him and Harry was sure that Neville was as safe as can be.

"Well, I suppose a Ravenclaw is still better than a Hufflepuff," Malfoy muttered. "We are aware that going by different names won't make the targets on your backs any smaller but we can shield you better than that idiot Dumbledore can. He's a fool if he thinks he can protect you from those that wish you harm."

"Whoa, hold on," Harry said, stepping away from Nathan. "Who _are_ you? If people are after you, why aren't they after Neville?"

"Neville and I have different grandmothers. It's not the Longbottoms I could be used against, they'd go for Neville in that case," he ran a hand through his hair.

"Listen, Harry, you won't believe me-"

"Try me."

"Fine," he snapped. "Remember what I told you about my titles?"

"That you've plenty."

"Yes. Most of them are spare titles but I'm Heir to two houses. One is the House of Crouch and the other is the House of McGonagall."

 _Crouch?_ He knew that name- Barty Crouch Jr. He had impersonated Mad-Eye Moody and had forced him to compete in the Triwizard Tournament- Nathan was related to a Death Eater? And _McGonagall?_ His Professor McGonagall? "What?"

"My Grandmum, the one I told you about, is Minerva McGonagall. Her daughter is my Mum. And my Dad, he's Barty Crouch's nephew- the Senior, that is. After Barty fell out of grace, I became Uncle Barty's only heir. His name used to hold lots of power with the Ministry, he condemned lots of Death Eaters to Azkaban or worse and now that he's dead too... Dad holds the title for now, until I come of age but I'm essentially Lord Crouch."

"As fascinating as this is," Malfoy drawled, pulling Harry back into reality. "We've more urging business to attend to. Such as getting the two of you to Malfoy Manor. Eoin, I expect there to be no explosions this time, do you understand?"

The Death Eater pulled out his wand and transfigured their PJs into simple robes. Harry nodded curtly and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Good. Now, there will be reporters outside but we can't apparate from the Ministry so we will have to go through them. I will give a short statement but you will not answer any of their questions."

The entire hall was filled with reporters- Harry even spotted Rita Skeeter, the most obnoxious reporter he'd ever met, trying to fight her way to the front by elbowing her colleagues as hard as she could.

Flashes of light clouded his vision from all sides and he heard his name, both his real name and the name he was born with, being shouted dozens over dozens of times. They only quieted down when Malfoy stopped with Mrs Malfoy by his side and Nathan and him slightly behind them.

"Yes, it is true," he began in the regal tone Harry hated so much- the pretentious git shouldn't feel so self-righteous. "The boys known as Harry James Potter and Nathan Bernard Longbottom are our kidnapped sons, Eoin and Finian. We have lost almost fourteen years with our sons and have a lot to make up for and in order to be able to do this, we will go on an extended vacation and return in time for our boys to return to Hogwarts. Until then, I wish for no one to interrupt us."

They arrived back in Malfoy's study only a few minutes later. Harry's eyes fell on Nathan, only a few feet away from him, and could see the reality of what was happening finally sink in. He looked at the fireplace longingly, a strange look coming across his face before going blank again.

"Eoin," Mrs Malfoy said. "Why don't you show Finian to his room? It's directly beside yours."

He shrugged and led the way out of the study and down a hallway that was somewhat familiar- he had found himself in this particular wing of the Manor quite often though he hadn't known that Malfoy's study was in it until that day. Now that he knew- escaping would be far easier now that he knew where the only working fireplace was situated.

"You've been here for a few days already?"

"Yeah," he said lowly. "I've been trying to find a way out."

"Any luck?"

He shook his head. "No. None of the fireplaces are connected to the floo system only the one we came through and the doors downstairs that lead out of the Manor wouldn't open for me."

"I'll send word to my grandmother. She'll get us out. No one says no to Minerva McGonagall and gets away with it, didn't you know?"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. My grandmum is the best."

Harry smiled wryly- he spent the better part of the year under McGonagall's strict rule. Was she like that with her grandson too? He didn't think so. Nathan did, after all, seem to admire her beyond belief. He liked her too and had always thought that she had a soft spot for him but after what Nathan had said earlier- was he truly the reason she didn't want her grandson to attend Hogwarts?

"McGonagall thought going to school with me was too dangerous for you?"

"Not you," Nathan said. "You didn't put the Stone in a castle full of kids, did you? She wanted me safe and if that meant not attending school then she was willing to live with that. I was homeschooled by most your teachers though, all but Transfiguration and Potions and electives, of course. Grandmum was too busy and Snape quit on me. He thought I was a waste of time. Probably right, too. I'm useless with potions."

"I wish he'd quit Hogwarts," Harry stopped as they arrived in the hallway where their bedrooms were located. He pointed at the rightmost door. "That one's Malfoy's bedroom. Never went in, never plan to. The one beside it is mine."

"The one you blew up?"

"It was rebuild," he grinned and pointed at the leftmost door. "That one's yours, I suppose."

Nathan stared at the door for a while before slowly moving to open it. It was almost exactly like Harry's, only that this one followed a rather Ravenclaw-esque color scheme.

"Grandmum will get us out," he finally said, more to himself than Harry. "I know she will. Listen," he spun around to face Harry. "We need to find a way to contact someone, anyone. I can try to summon my House Elf tonight but I doubt he'll be able to get through the warding."

"Warding?"

"Most places have warding. Mine too. It's basic security," he waved his hand. "Do you have an owl?"

"Yeah but she's at Ron's. Don't worry, I told him to inform Dumbledore. And we'll probably be on the front page tomorrow. They're bound to notice."

"Right. Right, of course. Grandmum and my parents will notice too, naturally. I don't make it a habit to stay away from home. Right. Good. Don't get too comfy here, we'll be out faster than Malfoy can blink."

Harry smirked- much as he would've liked to have Neville as a brother, he certainly appreciated Nathan's determination. Between the two of them, they'd be gone soon.

"Play along for a while, alright?" He asked. "Cooperate a bit here and there. While we're here, we might as well take the chance to get to know the enemy."

Yes, Harry thought at Nathan's smirk, they'd get along splendidly.


	8. Together But Never United

After leaving Nathan to further inspect his room- for enchantments and other things that didn't belong, he had been assured- Harry hastily went back to his own room, shutting the door behind himself and quickly crossing the floor to the mirror that stood beside his wardrobe. He closed his eyes just before he caught glimpse of his new reflection and took a deep breath. He knew that, when he opened his eyes, he wouldn't see black hair or stare into green eyes. Blond hair, wavy instead of messy, would be on top of his face, a stranger's face, and eyes that were unlike his own would take in his new form. He wasn't sure if he was ready to see the truth for himself- what if he looked exactly like bloody Malfoy? He didn't think he'd be able to deal with that. Did he look like Nathan instead? That would be favorable as he did seem to have taken more after Mrs Malfoy's ancestors, the Blacks. His hair, though not dark like Sirius', had the same wave to it and was still a bit darker than the Malfoys' and his skin was not quite as pale as Malfoy's either.

He clasped his hands behind his back and slowly blinked his eyes open, recoiling as he finally saw his reflection. He didn't look bad at all, just very different. He was even smaller than before, maybe an inch smaller than Nathan, and very lean, almost scrawny even. His hair was the same color as Malfoy's but was wavy like Nathan's. Their eyes were similar too but Harry thought he could still see flecks of green in them, darker than before but definitely still there. He leaned closer and touched his face, slowly running his finger down the smooth skin.

"Malfoy," he muttered. "I'm a bloody Malfoy"

He brought his hand up to his forehead and pushed his bangs to the side, groaning at the familiar sight of his lightning bolt scar- he knew Dumbledore had said that it couldn't be removed but he had still hoped that it might've gone away by itself. Just once, he'd like to see his reflection- and it didn't even have to be his previous one- and not see that scar.

He frowned. The scar. It had been given to him by Voldemort on the day he killed his parents, his _real_ parents. The Malfoys hadn't yet handed him over and so far, he had no reason to believe that they would other than common sense but the wait was making his fingers itch. He had never been the most patient of people, he knew that, but never had he thought that he'd be impatient about his impending death, for surely that was what would happen once the Malfoys got sick of him.

Maybe they were waiting for the right moment. He knew that Malfoy wasn't in Voldemort's good graces, that had been proven on the graveyard. Were they going to use him to appease him? Or maybe they would use Nathan for that and keep Harry as leverage- that did seem very Slytherin after all. If that _was_ the plan, he had to be even more careful. Nathan was Neville's cousin and McGonagall's grandson- he couldn't let any harm come to him.

 _His saving people thing_ was what Hermione had called that. It was true, sort of, but then again, Harry could hardly imagine not trying to save everyone he could, especially those who couldn't protect themselves- not that Nathan was a bad wizard but Harry did have a year of studies on him and it was rather unlikely that he had ever been involved in a real battle himself.

A knock on the door startled him out his thoughts. He frowned- no one ever knocked on his door or entered it at all.

"Yeah?"

Nathan poked his head into the room.

"Hey, Harry," he said, his voice oddly flat. "You busy?"

"Not at all. Come in."

He sat down on his bed as Nathan awkwardly shuffled into the room, closing the door behind him gently. He wasn't brash as before, nothing like the kid who had stood up to Lucius Malfoy. Instead, he was so like Neville that it almost pained Harry to see him- this was his friend's cousin, someone he loved very dearly. If any harm came to him that he could've prevented-

Nathan ran a hand through his hair and paced around the room as Harry watched him.

"Nathan, what happened?" He finally asked. "You were fine just a second ago."

"I realized something and it's not good."

"Realized what?"

He stopped, his eyes solemn and his jaw set. "Harry, we didn't walk out of that hospital."

"Course not," he frowned. "Malfoy said we were kidnapped. Good for us, I'd say."

"No, no, you don't get it. Think, Harry! Yes, you're a Gryffindor, you like your brawns but my grandmum likes you so there's gotta be some good brains in there too. How did we end up with our parents?"

"Adoption?"

"Our parents aren't random people, though, are they? Think about it, what connects them?"

He really didn't think there was anything that connected his parents to Nathan's- sure, they happened to adopt the two of them, which, in a way, was a connection by itself, but further than that…Maybe they went to Hogwarts together- Hogwarts! Nathan's grandmother was McGonagall and one of McGonagall's favorite students ever-

"McGonagall! I know that she really liked my parents when they were at school."

"Bigger, think bigger than my grandmum."

Who was bigger than McGonagall but- Harry felt like smacking himself. _Of course_. Dumbledore. _He_ had dropped Harry at the Dursleys' and _he_ was the one who insisted that Harry had to go back every summer. Dumbledore had always commanded his life in a way.

"Dumbledore," he said. "He's the one who kidnapped us."

"Now you get me."

He nodded. "There must've been a reason. It can't have been our parentage, else he would've taken Malfoy too."

"And he can't have been after Death Eater children either. There's plenty and they haven't been taken. It's just us."

Harry did see where Nathan was going with this- sort of. Knowing that Dumbledore had taken him from the Malfoys was both a relief and a troubling knowledge. On the one hand, he had prevented him from growing up a Death Eater but on the other hand, he had taken any chance Harry had to grow up with his biological family. Had Harry grown up Eoin, he mightn't have become a Death Eater after all. Maybe, just maybe, he would've turned out just the same, just without the scar and the madman who yearned to end his life. Cedric might have survived as Eoin Malfoy wouldn't have been needed to resurrect Voldemort. It wasn't thanks to the Dursleys, after all, that he had turned out the way he had and he hadn't even known his parents for long enough that they could've left a lasting impression on him. Now he would never know who Eoin Malfoy might've grown up to be and it was all Dumbledore's fault.

"Do you know Dumbledore?" He asked.

"Of course. He was around all the time when I grew up. I visited Hogwarts plenty too."

Harry frowned, remembering what the Malfoys had told him that morning- he had been found because McGonagall couldn't fulfil her task and left it to Snape.

"Nathan," he began slowly. "I think McGonagall must've known too."

"What?"

Nathan slumped into the nearest armchair as Harry told him all he knew and for a second, he almost regretted telling him that. Sure, he always hated when someone- Dumbledore especially- didn't tell him everything but as he looked at Nathan's face, he wished he could take it back.

"If she knew about you then she must've known about me too. Maybe that's why Dumbledore took me."

"To make sure McGonagall wouldn't tell anyone."

Nathan ran his hand through his hair once more. His hair fell back, making him look oddly like Malfoy had toward the end of Third Year when he had started to grow his hair out a bit more. "So we have to decide whether to go back to our kidnappers or stay with people who might sell us to Voldemort?"

"Basically."

He'd choose Dumbledore every day- if only he knew what the Headmaster wanted with them. The only thing Harry knew for sure was that if he went back to Dumbledore, he'd end up facing Voldemort. There was no doubt. Dumbledore would make him face the man that killed his parents or at least do nothing to prevent another meeting- that's the way it had been since First Year, after all.

If he stayed with the Malfoys, he still might have to face Voldemort and as much as Harry wanted to pretend otherwise, it wasn't even one hundred percent sure whether they actually planned on selling him and Nathan.

He looked at Nathan, who looked back wearily.

"By Merlin, Harry," he said, deeply troubled. "We have to stay. At least until we know who wants to keep us safe and who wants to do us harm."

He wished he could've disagreed.

* * *

 **Hello!**

 **Yeah, I think at this point, it's safe to say that most chapters will be somewhere between 1500 and 4000 words. I'd hate to draw things out too long just to have a higher word count, though let me know if you think I should try to write longer chapters.**

 **This one wasn't supposed to be too long anyhow. It was only meant to introduce you guys to Harry's inner struggle that comes up toward the end there.**

 **Also, I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a review. It doesn't have to be long, just a couple words. I'm absolutely astonished at how many people followed and favorited this story so far and am incredibly grateful for every single one of you but I really, really would love some reviews. Throw 'em at me, guys, I can take it. ;)**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	9. Beloved But Not By Each Other

A House Elf named Lorrie appeared soon after he and Nathan had made their decision. Harry hadn't met the elf before, or any of the others that surely worked in the Manor so he figured it was safe to assume that the Malfoys were deliberately keeping their elves away from him.

Lorrie was pleasant enough. Less eccentric than Dobby and nowhere near as awed by Harry but no less weary. She was wringing her hands nervously as she informed them that 'Master Lucius' and 'Mistress Narcissa' had requested their presence in the sitting room and Harry felt his heart go out to her. He was, in no way, as enthusiastic about freeing Elves as Hermione was but even he knew that they deserved so much more than what the Malfoys gave them- especially Elves that were as lovely and fragile as Dobby and Lorrie.

"We should free her," he said, walking to the grand staircase.

Nathan shook his head. "No, we really shouldn't."

"What? Why not? They treat her horribly!"

"House Elves don't want to be free. They practically feed off their bond to their Masters. It says so in all the books."

"Then the books are wrong," he snapped. "I freed one of Malfoy's elves two years ago and he loves it-"

"Some manage to cope. Most don't. You know Winky, don't you? Fudge's old elf?"

"Yes."

"Ever since she's been freed, she's been feeling horrible. She's a mess. Most elves react the way she did when they're freed."

Winky _was_ a mess when Harry had last seen her. Bit of an alcoholic too, from what he could tell. She was always in tears, hysteric even, and wouldn't cheer up for anything. She was such a drastic contrast to happy Dobby, who never seemed to slow down. He had just assumed, really, that both Dobby and Winky were the two extremes and that the normal, usual reaction to freedom would be somewhere in the middle. He knew that Hermione thought so too and she must've read some books at least, if not all of she could get her hands on. Ron hadn't agreed though and he, like Nathan, had grown up in the Wizarding World. Yes, he'd never owned any elves himself but he probably met quite a few before Hogwarts. If any of them were to understand the way a House Elf's mind worked, it would be Ron and Nathan.

"Fine," he finally said, stopping just before the doors that led to the sitting room. "But I still refuse to treat her badly."

"Me too but that's it. I won't free her. They're handy to have around anyhow."

Harry frowned and shook his head.

"Are you going to stand there all day?"

They whirled around. Malfoy stood at the bottom of the stairs, scowling at them, with his arms crossed impatiently.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Same as you," he shrugged. "So are you?"

"Are we what?"

"Going to stand there all day."

Harry scowled and pushed the door open. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy were seated on one of the deep red sofas. Mrs. Malfoy smiled at them as they entered, her eyes taking them each in individually. Harry thought her face grew a notch sadder as Nathan and he sat in the armchairs instead of on the other sofa along with Malfoy- Draco- but he couldn't be bothered to do anything about it. Mrs. Malfoy was nice enough all things considered but he wouldn't, under any circumstances, engage in her game of House.

"I see you boys have met already," Malfoy drawled. "Draco, have you been introduced?"

"No, Father."

"I'll tell you who I am," Nathan said, smirking. "I'm Nathan Longbottom, Heir to the Houses of Crouch and McGonagall."

"McGonagall? That lovesick dement old idiot reproduced?"  
Nathan glared at him. "I'll have you know that my grandmother is neither lovesick nor a dement old idiot. You mightn't have noticed, your Head of House being a slimy Death Eater, but my grandmother is actually among the cleverest witches that are alive today."  
"Severus isn't a Death Eater-"

"Draco," Mrs. Malfoy interrupted. "Please."

"Yes, Mother."

Before, Harry had always reckoned Malfoy to be a complete Daddy's Boy but after a single week in close proximity to the Malfoys, it became quite clear that he was actually the biggest Mummy's Boy Harry had ever known besides Dudley. He was always quick to obey to her, barely ever arguing, and took immense offense when anyone spoke against her- once, Harry had muttered something about overbearing mothers whilst exploring the Manor and Draco had practically jumped him, making good use of every single insult he knew, all because of some not even remotely unkind words of displeasure. Harry could, sort of, relate- he'd choose Mrs Malfoy over her husband any day.

"Fin- Nathan," Mrs Malfoy said kindly, her voice once more reminding Harry strongly of Mrs Weasley. "I know that you are upset and you have all right to be. It's alright if you still love your other family, we don't expect you, or Harry, to just stop loving them, but I need both of you to understand that we are your family too. Severus and Lucius made a horrible mistake when they were barely older than you are now and they will have to live with that mistake for the rest of their lives but that absolutely does not mean that you are permitted to judge them or condemn them before you know them."  
Harry frowned- he _did_ know Snape and Malfoy. He knew what they were, what ideology they followed and they certainly never withheld judgement. He saw it every day in school, when no one but Slytherin gained points from Snape, when no Slytherin ever lost points to him, no matter what they did. Malfoy had meant to kill every Muggleborn at Hogwarts, Harry's own best friend included, and had used slurs to make them feel inferior.

"He was in the graveyard," he finally said. "If you make a mistake, you try to make up for it not continue on with it. He was there, he cheered Voldemort on and laughed when I was being tortured."

"Not every mistake can be fixed-"

" _A man must be big enough to admit his mistakes, smart enough to profit from them and strong enough to correct them_ ," Nathan shook his head. "John C. Maxwell said that. I agree with him. If you think you can't fix your mistakes, then you're simply not a good enough man."

Mrs Malfoy made to protest but Malfoy simply held up his hand, silencing her. "Quite right. I'm not a hero. But I want you to ask yourself if the man you name your father is a hero or if James Potter was-"

"My Dad was a hero!" Harry jumped at, reaching for the wand he knew he didn't possess. "He died to save my Mum and me! He's ten times the man you will ever be!"

"So touchy," Malfoy tutted. "Sit down, Eoin, I never meant to say that Potter wasn't a hero. I agree, his very last act was one of heroics and I will be forever grateful that both he and that wife of his died to save a boy they knew wasn't their own. He saved my son's life by giving his own and I am to ever see him in Merlin's Garden, I shall thank him for that."

"Yeah?" He asked. "You don't seem too happy to have Nathan and me here."

He _really_ didn't. He never had shown any happiness, like Mrs Malfoy, who always seemed to find another small way to show that she truly wanted him to feel comfortable. She had presented him with a baby blanket just three days ago; baby blue and incredibly soft. The name _Eoin_ , the name he had been supposed to grow up with, was stitched onto the material and even though Harry didn't think of himself as Eoin, he had thanked her and had kept the blanket on the foot of his bed ever since- it was the first time he had ever seen his name spelled out and it had been a quite weird experience. Eoin was _his_ name but it wasn't Harry- besides, he had thought his name was _Owen_ and when he had pointed that out to Mrs Malfoy, she had only laughed though it really wasn't his fault that the Malfoys had to choose the weird spelling over the common one.

"I know," he said, his voice softer than before. "I don't seem happy because last time I saw you two, you were babies. Innocent babies that didn't look at me with hatred and distrust. Last time I saw you, you weren't fourteen years old. You weren't scarred, had never seen any horrors. You were just babies and you trusted me wholeheartedly. Now, you can hardly stay in your seats and you feel unsafe whenever you're around me."

Harry shifted in his seat. Malfoy sounded sincere enough but he _was_ a Slytherin, after all. They always sounded sincere and then, when you least expected it, they'd come round and stab you in the back- at least that's what plenty people had told him. It wasn't very likely that Malfoy was being honest- if he truly wanted them to trust him, he'd have tried proving his trustworthiness to them but he hadn't. He'd done the opposite, always snarky and only minimally nicer than before.

"You haven't given us any reason to trust you," he finally said.

"No, I haven't. If you let me, I would, however, like to try."

He glanced at Nathan, who only raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed, knowing that he had to decide for both of them. He had a plan, he'd told Nathan, and he needed him to follow him. The plan had changed, of course, but it seemed that Nathan still expected him to take the lead.

"Alright," he said, decidedly not looking at his brother. "But we don't promise anything."

Maybe this way, he thought as Malfoy nodded, they'd find out who was with them and who was against them.

* * *

 **This chapter was meant to be longer but I had hardly any time to write this week, so yeah. I'm not happy with this chapter either but I figured it was better to get it out now rather than mull it over too much because then it'd never be released.**

 **Some of you might remember that this story was originally meant to have a lot of swearing. In case you were wondering about that, Nathan was supposed to swear a lot before I decided to make him quote people a lot instead.  
**

 **StarDuchess and Raytu17 asked some good questions that I can answer so here you go. (Also, I'm impressed by the amount of thought you put into this, StarDuchess. Much appreciated!)**

 **1\. Dumbles and McGonagall were, of course, aware of what was happening but they each had their reasons for not intervening. McGonagall's reasoning will be revealed within the next two chapters, I guess. Be assured, she has very good reasons.**

 **2\. Yes, Harry wanted a family, just not this particular one. You have to remember, this is the Malfoys. Harry hates them with a passion. It's only natural that he'll be wary. Trust has to be earned.**

 **3\. Draco was four months old when Narcissa became pregnant again. He was born sick and wasn't expected to survive, which is why Narcissa and Lucius decided to have more children in the first place. I don't think I will reveal his sickness, simply because I'm not an expert on these things and I'd hate to represent a deadly sickness wrong.**

 **Short version of my timeline:**

 **June 5th, 1980: Draco Malfoy is born and diagnosed to have a deadly sickness**

 **July 31st: Harry Potter is born prematurely**

 **August 8th: The Prophecy is made**

 **September 18th: Narcissa Malfoy is pregnant**

 **July 30th 1981: Neville Longbottom is born / Harry dies of the aftermath of his premature birth**

 **July 31st: Eoin and Finian Malfoy are born.**

 **July 31st 1981: Eoin and Finian Malfoy are born and kidnapped by A.D.**

 **August 1st: Eoin is changed into Harry Potter / Finian is adopted by Kelvin and Aria Longbottom (reasons to be revealed)**

 **October 31st: Voldemort kills Lily and James Potter / Harry is left at the Dursleys'**

 **1984: Draco defeats his sickness**

 **The Prophecy will come up, probably not anytime soon though.**


	10. Protected

**Hello! Quick AN: The timeline I published last chapter was a bit wrong. Neville wasn't born the day before Eoin and Finian were born but the day before Harry was born. Hope that didn't confuse anyone. Sorry!**

* * *

She should've known, right off the bat, that something was wrong. She should've realized that the adoption had gone far too quick, that there was simply no way her daughter and son-in-law were the only people who wanted to adopt that tiny two-week-old baby boy. Yet, she hadn't known or had, at the very least, ignored any warning bells that went off in her head when Aria first presented her with Nathan. She had seemed so very happy and had clutched her child, her miracle baby, tightly as if afraid that he would simply dissolve if she let go of him. It hadn't been too long prior that that very face had been hollow and empty, those cheeks streaked with tears and those beautiful eyes void of life and Minerva couldn't, for the life of her, bear to return her daughter to that state. So she accepted the story they told her, no matter how far-fetched, and didn't question it, telling herself that weird things just happened sometimes. Over time, she even convinced herself of that.

Her office door creaked open and the eerie quiet that followed told her all she had to know of her visitor. Albus rarely came down to speak to her, preferring to summon her to his office instead. When he came to her, he always came without that irritating twinkle in his eyes and without his grandfatherly mask.

"I'm very disappointed in you, my dear Minerva," he began solemnly.

She nodded. "And I in you."

"Do you think you did young Harry and Nathan a favor?"

"Yes, Albus, I do think I did them a favor," she straightened the papers before her. "Nathan and Harry may not agree, and neither will Aria and Kelvin, but I did do them a favor."

She set them free. She gave them the opportunity to break away from Albus' tight grip, to go out into the world and see the many things he wouldn't let them see. She gave them a future that was theirs and no one else's.

"Then I imagine you must be very pleased with yourself. The Evening Prophet will be published within the hour and I know from a very trusted source that Harry and Nathan's faces will grace the front page."

"Yes, I am very pleased, thank you for noticing."

He frowned at her. "Minerva, now is not the time for idle commentary. Do you not see what you have done?"

"What I have done? I will tell you what I have done. I returned two lost, hurting boys to their rightful family! I freed a grieving mother from her pain and allowed a desperate father to breathe again and I will not have you blame me for-"

"Your intentions, noble as they are, have led you onto the wrong path. I agree that Harry's situation was far from ideal but surely you realize that it was necessary?"

She shook her head. He only meant to do right by the Wizarding World, she knew that, and had he done it any other way, she would've been right there at his side, eager to assist him. Yet, he had chosen this path, the one that saw two brothers taken from their family and separated from each other before they opened their eyes for the first time. He had decided, as though it was his right to make that choice, that a little boy's life was worth less than the Greater Good and Minerva, for far too long, had allowed him to continue.

She could've ended all of it years ago, just after Harry's First Year. She could've- should've- told the Ministry right then and there, personal consequences be damned. She hadn't though. Instead, she had taken her grandson and had kept him away from school whilst sending his twin brother back to those horrible Muggles, all because of her selfish desire of seeing her daughter smile, and she would've continued feigning ignorance had she not seen what it did to those boys.

With each year that passed, they grew less naïve, less ready to accept an adult's word for the undeniable truth and developed a thirst for knowledge that could only be stilled by cold, hard facts. _'You were adopted'_ suddenly stopped being an acceptable answer to Nathan's inquiries about his biological parents. _'It's for the best'_ ceased to satisfy Harry's need to make sense of Albus' seemingly senseless decisions. _'You're too young'_ , words that used to be a way to protect their innocence, became a meaningless way to shut down their broad, sharp minds.

"Nathan would have connected the dots by himself sooner or later," she said. "I saved him the trouble."

"And Harry wouldn't have?"

"No," she snapped. "You made sure that he only knew what you wanted him to know."

"It was for the best. Harry is essential for the survival of our world. He, and only he, can defeat Voldemort."

"Do not confuse Harry Potter with Eoin Malfoy, Albus. Eoin had nothing to do with that ridiculous idea of yours until you dragged him into this."

He clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at her with disapproving eyes. "If you knew what I know-"

"No one knows what you know and I doubt that it would change anything. You are not Merlin, Albus, so do not presume to play with lives that are not your own."

He sighed and inclined his head. "I see we are getting nowhere today. Very well, it is too late to change the situation now anyhow. I just hope that one day, you will realize the error of your ways."

"And you."

As soon as the door closed behind him with another creak of its hinges, Minerva stood up and almost crashed her feather in her hand as she clenched it tightly. The nerve of him, blaming her for a situation he had caused in the first place! Granted, she had allowed Severus to discover the secret of Harry's true identity but there truly had been no other way. The boy had been through too much. He had seen a friend die and had witnessed the resurrection of his mortal enemy. Merlin, the fact that he had a mortal enemy was enough to prove how bad a hand Albus had dealt him. The boy was only fourteen- or thirteen, rather- and should worry about silly things like girls. His biggest fear should be failing an important exam, not being killed by a madman. He was such a kind-hearted boy, so like Lily even though he wasn't hers by blood. Never one let someone else suffer and always concerned for everyone else before he started noticing his own welfare. Sometimes, he was too quick to forgive, rather unlike either of the Potters who were known for holding some very firm grudges, most notably against Severus. He didn't deserve to have his life put on the line to end a war that wasn't even his until Albus made it so.

And her Nathan, her wonderful grandson, didn't deserve to be leverage, because he was nothing more than that for as long as she kept his heritage hidden from him and even though she knew he was hurting, away from home, there was no doubt in her mind that she had done the only right thing- both for Harry and for Nathan.

Passing the task of transferring the Magical Signatures to Severus had been easy enough- the lad hardly ever left the castle and she was busy anyways. Sure, he had grumbled and muttered some not very nice things under his breath but in the end, he had accepted her request and within five days, news had reached her that all boys aged thirteen to sixteen were to check in with the Ministry.

She hadn't told Aria and Kelvin that Nathan wouldn't return, not until after he had left, but they had still known. She could see it in the strained smile Aria graced her boy with and the deep sadness that was written inside Kelvin's eyes and the lingering hug both of them gave him. Her decision had broken her child all over again but this time, she had something worth fighting for- a son that would need her to stay strong.

* * *

"My Lord, I bear grievous news regarding the Potter boy."

He regaled the masked man that kneeled before him with cold eyes. He didn't know who that particular servant was, only that he wasn't one of his closest. None of those were here today, they weren't needed. He doubted that the one in front of him was needed, he certainly hadn't summoned him, but he had itched for news ever since Severus' last report a few days ago. He hadn't thought to receive any for at least another few weeks, since Potter had been carted off to his Muggle relatives where not even he could reach him.

"Speak."

"The boy was not born to James Potter and his mudblood wife. He was born to Lucius and Narcissa, one of the twins that vanished on the day of their birth."

"Where is the boy now?"

"Malfoy Manor, my Lord. Lucius and Narcissa brought him and the other boy there this afternoon."

"I assume you have not received word of Lucius?"

"No, my Lord, he has not attempted to contact any of us."

"Very well," he nodded and raised his wand. "You have served me well. Next time, however, you will bring such important news to me sooner, not hours later. _Crucio_."

He watched as the man writhed in pain, barely keeping pained screams from escaping, and held the curse for a few seconds before cancelling it to send the man on his way. He _had_ served him well, after all, by bringing him these news.

He sat in his large armchair, stroking Nagini's head tenderly. Lucius and Narcissa…he was part of his closest circle though a rather cowardly man. He was rather useless most of the time unless politics were involved. Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix, was more to his liking. A bit on the unhinged side, perhaps, but that made her all the better suited for his cause. Once he had broken her and the other Death Eaters out of Azkaban, he didn't doubt that she'd serve him quite well once more.

Until then, he had other business that took priority, however. It was, there was no other way of putting it, simply unacceptable for Lucius to not hand over Harry Potter the moment he had him in his custody so he would need to take care of that soon before the man suddenly decided to grow a spine as some Death Eaters had done once they figured they needed to protect their children more than they needed to serve him.

It was quite ironic, really, that one of his first Death Eaters, one that was among the top Death Eaters in the hierarchy, would father the boy destined to kill him, though he wasn't sure if Potter still fit the criteria of the prophecy. He _had_ been born at the end of July, he remembered, but not to those who had thrice defied him.

He needed to get his hands onto that prophecy. He needed to hear what it said, down to the last word, and he certainly couldn't go into the Department of Mysteries by himself, not if he wanted that idiot Fudge to continue his political war against Potter and Dumbledore. If he somehow got Potter to go in, however…yes, that might even be enough for now. If Potter couldn't pick it up, he wasn't the one destined to defeat him and if he could, his servants could always take the prophecy from him, if they weren't too clumsy about it.

He sat back, allowing Nagini to slither onto his arm. Now he only needed to figure out how to lure the boy into the Ministry of Magic.


	11. Accepted

**Hello! Bit of an Interlude, I'm afraid. This chapter sort of developed a mind on its own. I hadn't planned on publishing it but I enjoyed writing it too much to keep it to myself and it also explains a little about Real Harry. Keep in mind that my Sirius is a bit off his rockers, which is why his thoughts tend to wander when he's not concentrating on something, such as a conversation. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

The days at Grimmauld Place passed slowly and each time the morning sun lit the dusty, grey rooms felt like the breath taken by a man dying a painful death. Sirius couldn't remember being poetic before his time in Azkaban although he did suppose being a living tragedy would have that effect on people. Twelve years spent in the most horrible place on earth for a murder he never committed certainly qualified him for the title of the living tragedy by itself, even without all the other crap that went on around him added to it.

It was a reprieve, almost, to have the Order of the Phoenix reinstituted toward the end of June, after his godson, Harry, saw Voldemort resurrected at the hands of Wormtail, that sniveling little rat he once called friend. The Weasleys moved in pretty much right away, the whole lot of them with the exception of the three eldest boys. There were still plenty of them, of course, breeding rabbits they were, but he was glad for them. They kept the house moving and forced him to get out of bed every morning. The twins, Fred and George, weren't too bad, all things considered. They were fun, not unlike himself when he was their age, before he'd lost everything. They were carefree and pranksters and they were exactly what he thought Harry would grow up to be. A tiny James, a boy that was his father's son.

Harry was his father's son. Sort of. He looked almost exactly like James, right down to that little mark on his right arm that had annoyed James because when someone looked at it with their eyes squinted almost closed and with their head tilted to the left at the perfect angle, it looked like the snake that adorned the Slytherin crest. Harry had that too but he didn't seem too bothered, probably because he couldn't get the angle right.

Everything else about him was purely Lily, though. Well, almost. Enough of him was Lily. He was basically Lily's soul trapped in James' body with a tiny sprinkle of Harry in there that made him unique even to his parents.

He could play Quidditch. Sirius didn't know a whole lot of his godson beside the things Moony had told him but Sirius knew that Harry was a natural on a broom, like James. Granted, he played Seeker and not Chaser but the Seeker was essentially the most important player in a game so that was alright. Better than Keeper because those were pretty useless when paired with competent Chasers. Harry was a Seeker, not a Keeper, and that was quite swell, as James would sometimes say in a posh accent, imitating an old lady drinking tea with her pinky raised.

So, all in all, Harry was doing a pretty good job at being his parent's son. Except, he wasn't. He couldn't be his parent's son considering that he wasn't their _son_. That one had died a long time ago, before this Harry was even born. Or, well, at least the day before this Harry was born. This Harry, or Eoin or whatever his name was these days, wasn't their real son, even though he did a really good job acting the part, and Sirius had known right from the beginning.

As such, it didn't surprise him at all when Ron Weasley, the youngest boy of Molly's extensive brood, came back from the Ministry in hysterics, proclaiming for everyone to hear that Harry was actually a Malfoy and that they needed to save him.

He didn't need saving, of course. He was Cousin Cissy's son and Cousin Cissy always cared heaps about family but the Weasleys wouldn't know that. Although he did suppose Harry didn't really get along with the Malfoy boy. Harry was, after all, a Gryffindor and Gryffindors, as a ground rule, couldn't stand Slytherins. There were exceptions, certainly, but not many. Sirius himself had only ever found himself liking three Slytherins in all his years. His little brother, Regulus, was one of them but he had stopped liking the kid when he turned evil on him. He died the year before real Harry's birth, doing who knows what.

Cousin Andy was his favorite Slytherin. She was nice and funny and proper family. At first, he had assumed she would be like Cousin Bella, wicked witch she was, but Andy was better, way better. Shortly after she left Hogwarts, she married a Muggleborn wizard called Ted Tonks, lovely fellow, and now they had a Hufflepuff daughter that was quite extraordinary indeed.

Cousin Cissy was the third Slytherin he'd ever liked, although that was probably not really liking so much as tolerating. Cissy was nice enough until she hit puberty, which is when girls, as a rule, became quite unbearable if they were family. When she married the younger Malfoy boy, Lucius, Sirius knew she was a goner. All in all, however, she wasn't nearly as bad as her oldest sister, Bella, but not nearly as good as Andy either. She was the balance that had kept the three Black sisters together for so long, before Andy and Bella finally mutually decided that they couldn't call each other sister anymore.

The best thing Cissy had ever done, by far, was giving birth to Harry- well, _this_ Harry. Eoin. Jamie, as they'd called him back in the days after Harry died. Whatever, Cissy had given birth to _him_ and Sirius thought, in his humble, unbiased way, that it was pretty much the best thing she had ever done. Her son, Lily and James' second chance, had brought so much hope back into their lives after Harry died. He had given them a reason to keep fighting and had kept Sirius alive for twelve years in that horrid prison. Had that boy not been, he doubted he would've ever found the courage, the spirit, to escape and might've simply succumbed to the Dementor's torture.

"Padfoot," Moony sat down beside him, the Evening Prophet clutched in his hands. "You alright?"

Moony had known too, of course. They hadn't told him, had actually thought him a traitor for a while, but he had still known, Sirius was sure of that. Werewolf senses and all, he would've smelt that Harry and Jamie weren't the same person.

He glanced up at Moony to find him staring back at him in concern and Sirius, rather startled, realized that he was still waiting for an answer.

"Yes," he said. "I'm fine."

"I was just-" Moony broke off to flatten the paper in front of him. The headline, in bold, catching letters, read _Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and Nathan Longbottom- Lost Malfoy Twins_. "Did you know?"

He nodded. The picture that was underneath the headline showed Lucius and Cissy, standing tall and proud. Between them and a bit more into the shadows were two young boys. One of them was his godson but Sirius couldn't tell which one. Both had wavy blond hair that framed their faces and covered their foreheads and slim faces. Their eyes were different, one with specks of green in them and the other more blue. They were at a similar height and both almost ridiculously thin, as Malfoys tended to be, and pale skin that made them look almost sick. Neither resembled Harry and yet, one of them was the boy he loved as his own and on a logical level, Sirius knew that that was how the boy was supposed to look like.  
He didn't know Nathan Longbottom, though he could imagine he was a distant relative of his, given that the Longbottoms were connected to the Black family tree through some third cousin or something.

Moony nodded. "Yes, I thought you did. When did he…When did Harry go?"

"The day before his birthday," Sirius traced the pattern of the table. "We'd hoped he'd at least make it one more day but that morning…he was just gone."

Lily had sobbed her heart out that day and even James' tears seemed to never end. Sirius himself had found himself hugging his knees in a corner more than once, his godson's green eyes haunting him, never blinking as they stared at him from a cold, pale face.

They hadn't snapped out of it until two days later, Dumbledore had turned up at their house in Godric's Hollow to hand them a baby that looked just like Harry but wasn't him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We thought you were the traitor."

They had been wrong, so wrong, and had taken away Moony's chance to say goodbye to Harry. Granted, they hadn't told Wormtail either, because he just couldn't keep a secret, but they should've told Moony. But they hadn't, Sirius thought as he watched the two brothers' weary eyes wander through the crowd, and he was the only one left to regret that decision.

"And Wormtail?"

He laughed a barking laughter. "Don't be silly, Moony."

"I'm not being silly," he said, frowning. "Are you alright with this? You hate everything Malfoy."

"Not Harry."

 _Never Harry_.

"And Eoin?"

He shrugged. "Eoin, Harry, it doesn't matter. His name doesn't change anything."

"What if it does change him? What if he gets angry at you for not telling him?"

"He'll calm down. James always-"

"But Harry isn't James," Moony said. "He isn't even James' son. How can you know how he'll react? All I'm saying," he raised his hands in surrender at Sirius' glare. "is that you shouldn't take it for granted that Harry will be fine with what happened all those years ago. He might be very upset and we can't have you making it worse by insisting you know him because you knew James."

Moony stood up and walked away. Sirius repressed the urge to follow him, instead gazing off to listlessly stare at Molly's back as she pretended not to have listened in on their conversation. Nosy woman she was, she could never just close her ears when she heard certain words be used. _Harry_ was certainly one of those words, though Sirius suspected she would've listened in anyways. She didn't like him much and the feeling was very mutual. She was overbearing. He was thirty-three years old and, by Merlin, he really didn't need a mother. His hung out there in the hallway under the thickest pair of curtains available in the world and she still annoyed the hell out of him. Typical. He thought he was rid of her when she died four years into his extended stay at Azkaban but no. The very first thing he heard upon entering his childhood home- not out of his own free will, mind- was the screeching, unforgettable sound of his mother's voice as she screamed her painted, fat head off about blood traitors and filth and probably something to do with disgraces.

His old man, now, he was too good a person for his hag of a mother. Not that any man should have to stoop so low as to marry her but really, his father could've done better- not to mention he could've, and should've, married someone who wasn't his own cousin. No wonder poor Reg turned out so horrid in the end. All that potential gone to waste. Course, Sirius himself was bit of a loony too, if he were honest with himself. Twelve years in Azkaban did that to a man, same as turning him into a poet. Poets and loonies were sort of the same thing anyhow. Anyone who thought speaking in rhymes and comparing things to other things to make them sound nice must be a loony because when Sirius tried to do that to swoon the beautiful Marlene McKinnon, all he got was a nice right hook to the chin. No sane man objected himself to such treatment on a daily basis, not even for all the money in the world. It _was_ a nice right hook, though. Nicely placed, hurt like a bitch and left a good sized bruise. They hadn't hooked up, in the end. Her choice, not his. They did become friends, eventually, once Lily and James started seeing each other in Seventh Year. Mi Casa es su Casa or something like that, although Sirius thought the casa bit had to be replaced with whatever word meant 'friend' in Spanish. And also…

* * *

 _He slithered down an empty corridor. There were no windows or doors, safe for a wooden one at the end of the hall. He didn't know that hallway, nor that door, but Harry knew, from the depth of his gut, that he_ needed _to get inside that room. A strange hissing sound, a whisper of sorts, reached his ears. It came from behind that door, there was no doubt. He looked around, yet there was no one else. No one in the hall, no one to hear the whisper but himself. Harry slithered closer, trying to peek through the gap underneath the door but it wasn't big enough for him to see anything other than blackness. The whisper grew louder, yet even more indistinguishable. That door, that room. They meant something. The whisper, it was trying to tell him something. Something important, something that would change everything. Harry knew it. He knew it. The door stayed firmly closed and Harry couldn't open it. He hissed at it, willing it to open, but it stayed shut and refused him entry. Still hissing, he retreated and-_

Harry shot up in his bed, sweat covered and breathing heavily. The door. It meant something. He needed to find it.


	12. Betrayed

Most of the time, when Harry woke up in the morning, all dreams he had during the night were long forgotten or faint memories at best. That night, however, he could remember the dream of the door clearly and vividly, every detail still visible to him as though etched onto the inside of his eyes. He could still see the wooden texture, the uneven lines that ran down the frame and the crooked brass knocker that looked like it hadn't been used in ages, judging by the thick layer of dust and the rust that had started to eat away the golden color. He could still hear the whispers, as unclear as they had been during the night, and the tug in his gut that told him that he needed to find the door and find the source of the whispers.

Thoughts of the door kept him up for the better part of the night. By the time he fell asleep again, a faint light was already shining through the curtains to announce another day at Malfoy Manor to him.

"Get up!" A voice shouted, mere seconds before the sun full on hit his face. "Don't make me eat breakfast alone with them."

He groaned and turned onto his stomach to bury his face into the pillow. "Go away."

"Not until you're up. Come on, Harry, I'm hungry."

"Go eat then."

"I told you, I don't want to be alone with them."

He sat up, rubbing his fist over his eyes, and looked at Nathan as he stood by the door. He was already dressed, more casual than the day before in simple jeans and a flannel button-down and with his hair still slightly damp. He fidgeted on the spot.

"You have to be alone with them sometime."

"Not if we stick together," he pointed out.

"I'm not sure if I want to stick to you all the time."

Despite his protests, he was pushed into the bathroom and only seconds later, a bunch of clothes was thrown in after him with a quick shout of "Hurry!". He shook his head and went about his business in a routine manner- he was used to such behavior. Ron would get impatient too when he felt Harry wasn't moving fast enough for his growling stomach. Most of the time, he absolutely refused to get up until it was necessary but once he was awake, there was only so much time he could spend without complaining about his crippling hunger and the way Harry was obviously trying to starve him.

He didn't take more than ten minutes, yet, when he walked back into his room, Nathan was already waiting for him impatiently.

Harry led the way to the dining room. Even though Harry had given Nathan a tour of the manor the day before, he secretly doubted whether he had actually bothered to remember any of the stuff he'd been told.

The Malfoys were already seated at the breakfast table by the time they arrived and they must've been there for a while already- otherwise, he had imagined the relieved sigh Draco gave upon their entry and the way he immediately went for the scrambled eggs that were placed nearest to him.

"We were just about to send Lorrie to wake you," Mrs Malfoy said, smiling at them. "Have you slept well?"

Nathan shrugged and looked at Draco. "Pass me the eggs, please."

"I slept fine," Harry said, rolling his eyes at Nathan.

"Really?" Mr Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. "You look tired."

Draco snorted. "Don't worry, Father, that's just the way his face looks."

His new face _did_ look tired compared to his old one. It was the paleness, he assumed. Even the tiniest of bags underneath his eyes stood out greatly against his pale skin. Ever since he had first discovered that rather unfortunate side-effect, he'd been wondering how Draco hid them, especially since his skin was a fair bit paler than his- if he didn't figure out until September 1st, Hermione would be constantly reprimanding him about going to sleep earlier and he really didn't want that.

"Shut up," he said, not wanting to admit to that. "It's just too early for me."

"You've woken at this time for the past few days."

Nathan grinned and put his cup down. "Before, his skin didn't look like snow."

"How would you know," he snapped. "You didn't know me then."

"We met," Nathan reminded him. "At the ministry, before I was called in. That was just yesterday, mate, are you always that forgetful?"

Right. Neville had introduced them just after his arrival, though it was hard to believe that it had only been a day since then. Not even a complete 24 hours had passed since he was exposed as Eoin Malfoy or since he'd met his twin brother, still unaware of their relation to each other. It was weird, surreal, to put a timeframe over the events of the last day- it had felt so very long, possibly because he had been asleep for a few hours following his testing. This time yesterday, Nathan was still at home with his family, the one he grew up with, blissfully unaware of what would happen to him. He took it remarkably well, better than he'd suspected, even though Harry had been sure Nathan's mood would fall after their conversation yesterday. Then again, he'd been raised as McGonagall's grandson- the professor always seemed to take everything in stride so it shouldn't surprise him that Nathan did the same.

"It was a long day," he finally said, scooping some jelly onto his pancakes.

"Tell me about it."

They ate in silence for a few minutes until it was broken by the hooting of owls as they shot into the dining room abruptly. They were early- usually, they arrived at the end of breakfast, when the food has already been cleared away. Five birds arrived, each clutching a letter or two and three of them were equipped with newspapers. Hedwig was among them and landed on his shoulder, where she gently nabbed on his ear as he took the letter from her.

"Hello, Hedwig," he said, stroking her gently. He hadn't seen her in weeks, ever since he'd last sent her off to Ron.

Nathan groaned and pushed his plate away. On his shoulder sat a beautiful brown barn owl, a common one, from what he could tell. The bird was feeding on some bacon Nathan had handed her from his plate, which now stood discarded.

"Guess who they're writing about?"

"Just a wild guess," Harry said, spying the newspaper in his hands. "Us."

"Good guess. Listen to these titles! _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, gone evil?_ , _Crouch Heir to follow in cousin's footsteps?_ , _The Story of-_ "

"Yes, I think that's quite enough," Mr Malfoy interrupted, folding his own paper together. "Don't pay them any attention, they like a good scandal-"

"Funny, though, isn't it?" Nathan said coldly. "I did my research on the Wizarding War. There was not a single article claiming you had gone dark, just small mentions of your name, and now that Harry wears it, it suddenly means that we've turned dark?"

"Don't worry about it, Nathan," he said, trying to hide his own scowl. "They always change their opinion on me, it's nothing unusual."

 _And bloody annoying that was too_.

"It's not supposed to be this way!"

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Draco asked. "You didn't care last night."

Last night, Harry and Nathan had been shown the article announcing their true parentage after much discussing. The Malfoys hadn't wanted to show it to them but they had insisted until they got to read the article for themselves. It hadn't been too bad, a few subtle insults maybe but nothing they couldn't live with. They hadn't been called evil, not outright at least, so Harry could understand Nathan's anger. He hated being called evil, after all that's happened. He hadn't expected them to turn on Nathan though. He hadn't exactly been a household name. His existence, he'd been told, had been kept very secret for most his life and now that his name was known to the world, they decided to cling onto the Crouch part of his heritage.

"They can't just judge us for our name," Nathan said. "It's wrong. A name doesn't make a person. _I'm not my name. My name is something that I wear, like a shirt. I outgrow it, I change it._ "

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "And who said that?"

He didn't bother wondering how he had known Nathan was quoting someone- there was something about the voice he used when he repeated someone else's words that was different to his normal voice.

"Jerry Spinelli. He's an author but that's not important. Important is that I don't want anyone to judge me because I wear a name that means nothing to me."

"Well, I'll have you know that the Malfoy name is very influential," Draco began. "We hold power with-"

Harry rolled his eyes. "We really don't care."

It wasn't like he didn't know with whom the Malfoys were connected or whom they controlled. He'd heard so much of it since his First Year, he'd be surprised to find another name or institution added to the list.

"You should care. It's your name too now-"

"Yeah and like Nathan said, a name doesn't define who we are. I'm not a different person just because I wasn't born as Harry Potter."

Nathan nodded along with him but Draco only shook his head. He hadn't expected him to understand, of course. People like him would never understand that there were more important things than names.

"Be that as it may," Malfoy began. "There's still nothing-"

He broke off with a wince and wrapped his hand around his left forearm where, he knew, the Dark Mark was hidden underneath the sleeve of his robes. A flash of pain crossed his face before it disappeared just as quickly. Malfoy and Mrs Malfoy scooted back from the table, the latter telling them to stay put and not to worry before they left the dining room in a haste. Harry could hear their muffled voices as they argued before a quiet pop indicated that one of them had vanished.

"So he's got a Dark Mark after all," Nathan said.

"Of course," Harry nodded. "Every Death Eater does."

Draco's chair toppled over backwards as he stood up forcefully. "Father isn't a Death Eater. He-"

He broke off as the door opened. Mrs Malfoy stepped back into the dining room, composed but still obviously upset, and looked at them intently. "Sit down, Draco. It's time that I tell you about your father."  
Both blondes sat down once more. Silence reigned for a while as Mrs Malfoy seemed to find the right words to say, although Harry doubted any would be right. She would try to justify his actions, tell them he only meant to do what is best-

"Yesterday," she said slowly. "I told you that Lucius had done a great mistake the day he joined the Dark Lord and I stand by my words. It was the biggest mistake of his life, one he will have to live with until he dies. However…He was just seventeen years old. The Dark Lord was gaining strength by the day and recruiting children as young as fifteen. His older brother, your Uncle Cicero, had decided not to join the Dark Lord just before your father took the Dark Mark. He thought…He thought if at least one of them was on the winning side, whichever that may be, they would be safe."

"That's a stupid reason to kill people-"

"Yes, I agree, Harry," she said. "It was a very stupid reason. Yet, it made sense to Lucius at the time, not to mention that he agreed with the Dark Lord's words. There's no denying it, your father bears no love for Muggleborns and I don't either. I, however, am willing to tolerate them, if not for my sake then for yours. No matter the reasoning, your father and his brother stood on differing sides of the war. When Cicero died, just before Draco was born, your father tried to change sides. He didn't want to fight with those that had killed his own brother. The Light wouldn't have him, however. He had been branded as evil."

"Rightfully so."

She nodded. "Yes. Perhaps. But he tried to change, he might've changed had the Light given him a chance. He could only stay with the Dark Lord if he wanted to have any hope that we might survive."

"Why are you telling us this, Mother?"

"To make sure you don't forget that your father wasn't always the man he is now. I want you to know that there was a time when he would to anything for this family."

Nathan frowned. "You mean he won't anymore?"

She shook her head gravely and glanced at the clock. "He's a changed man. He denied it to me last night but I have conferred with Severus as well. If given the choice between you, Harry, and his own life, Lucius will choose his own life and live to regret his decision. Don't think that he doesn't care about you, all of you. He cares, he loves you," she looked at them almost pleadingly. "Don't doubt that. He loves you and will love you with his dying breath but Lucius is not a brave man. He isn't brave enough to choose death over life as James Potter did."

He jumped up. "Then what are we waiting for? We need to leave! Floo Dumbledore, he'll help us-"

"No. We can't involve Dumbledore. I've taken precautions, we will be far away before noon, I promise. For now, I need you to stay calm. Harry, do you understand me? You need to be calm. Otherwise, I can't trust you with your wands."

"Wands?" He perked up. He hadn't held his wand in ages. "We're getting them back."

"You might need them. I will bring them to you soon. Now, you need to pack a few of your belongings, only the things you need most. We'll travel light, nothing extravagant."

They walked into their separate rooms in quiet, their three owls still perched on their shoulders- surprisingly enough, Draco hadn't raised his voice at all to defend his father. Of all three of them, he was surest to find his mother's plan lacking. They were, after all, going to leave his father behind just to save Harry, that should've angered him enough to speak against his mother.

Even Harry found this turn of events weird. Mrs Malfoy hardly even knew him and he really hadn't been too accommodating. It didn't make sense that she'd suddenly sacrifice her husband of at least sixteen years for the sake of a boy that didn't love her. Except, of course, if she'd known for a while. She must've known when Voldemort first returned or when Malfoy attempted to kill all Muggleborns at Hogwarts. Maybe she'd known of the change in her husband.

She was prepared. She had to have known for her to be prepared to flee Malfoy Manor with three boys. This wasn't something she could've done overnight. No, for this, he didn't need Hermione, or Nathan.

There wasn't a lot he wanted to keep. His picture album, the only photos he had of his parents, and his Firebolt. The Invisibility Cloak, an heirloom from his father, and some of the new clothes the Malfoys had given him as well as letters from his friends.

He was already done packing and waiting for Mrs Malfoy to come around when he remembered the letter he had gotten only an hour or so ago. It was from Ron, as evident by the untidy scrawl on the envelope. He opened it and sat on his bed.

 _Harry,_

 _Sorry, mate. I couldn't ask Dumbledore to rescue you. No one saw him at all last night. Mum tried to contact him but he wouldn't answer. She was really mad and kept cursing him. Can you imagine that? At some point, she even tried to contact McGonagall but she wouldn't answer either._

 _I saw the paper last night. No wonder she didn't answer._

 _I hope you're all right. Don't worry, we'll get you out there soon and Nathan too._

 _Hermione wanted to write too but we can't wait any longer. Hedwig needs to fly during the night because people would recognize her. If you send her back, Hermione will write too._

 _Ron_

It was a rather sorry excuse for a letter, though he hadn't expected anything else from Ron. He was never much of a writer.

"You have a beautiful owl."

He looked up. Mrs Malfoy stood in the doorway, his wand in her hand.

"Her name's Hedwig," he said. "Hagrid got her for me on my birthday."

"Nathan's is named Zeus," she smiled. "Seems to me that both of you have a penchant for names inspired by Muggle religion."

"Uh, I got Hedwig out of a book I got for Hogwarts."

She shrugged. "Not all things magic are separate from Muggle."

She walked over and handed him his wand. A surge of energy went through him the moment his fingers wrapped around the familiar wood.

"We will-"

An unearthly crash sounded from outside, so loud that even Hedwig screeched and opened her wings to ready herself for flight. Another bang followed, echoed by yet another one. Nathan stumbled into the room, his legs shaky from the quakes that shook the house.

"It's them! I could see them from my window, it's the Death Eaters!"


	13. Divided We Unite

Nathan ran to the window and peered through the crack in the curtains. Above his head, Harry couldn't see a whole lot but the flicker of spells, a bright mix of color that seemed to reflect off an invisible wall in the sky.

"They're trying to breach the wards," Nathan muttered. "I'd say five more minutes and they'll crash through them. Less if they're coming at us from more than one side but I can't tell."

He didn't have time to wonder how he would know that. Five minutes wasn't a lot and even less meant that they had to hurry if they wanted to have even the tiniest of chances. Yet, Nathan didn't move away from the window and Mrs Malfoy was suddenly gone from his side. Harry, wand in hand, hesitated for a moment, debating whether to follow her or not, before joining his brother at the window. He pulled the curtain open a bit more and almost recoiled at the sight before him. Dozens over dozens of masked, black-robed people stood maybe a hundred yards away from the Manor, their wands raised and shooting of a steady stream of spells. They didn't reach very far before they hit the wards, which seemed to stretch over the land owned by the Malfoys like a dome. It was cracking. Thin blue lines ran through the dome and the sky, clear for viewing just an hour ago, was blurred as though his old eyes were looking at it without his glasses on.

"There's too many."

He looked at Nathan. His brother, not yet fourteen, hadn't ever been involved in anything like this- Harry hadn't either, truth be told, but he had experience dealing with bothersome Death Eaters and Dark Lords at the very least. He knew what to expect, knew that every second counted in a situation that was life or death.

"I can't count them," he continued. "They're too far away. There's at least forty, though."

He clutched his wand tighter. "Don't worry. We'll get through this."

Nathan met his eyes. He was startled to see fear clouding the blue irises- the other boy hadn't exactly stroke him as fearless, no one was fearless, but somehow, he hadn't expected him to be frightened at the prospect of battle either. He had taken everything so far in stride and was calm even now- if Harry hadn't looked into his eyes, he'd never have guessed that his brother was afraid.

Mrs Malfoy came running into the room. "Draco isn't in his room!"

"What?" They spun around. "I saw him go in! Where'd he go?"

"I don't know but we have to find him! Nathan, you take this floor. Harry, ground floor. I'll go down to the dungeon. Whether you find him or not, come to the foyer once you're done, no detours!"

She didn't wait for them to answer. After giving each of them a long look, as though memorizing their faces, she dashed off, faster than he'd have thought she could run. He nodded at Nathan, absently noting that his knuckled had turned white from the pressure he was putting onto the wand.

Harry kicked his trunk open and stuffed his Invisibility Cloak into his pocket and debated over taking the photo album as well before giving up on that dream. He called Hedwig to him and held it out for her, followed by an order to take it to Ron if she could.

"Good luck," he said, turning to his brother.

Nathan nodded back at him. "Stay safe."

They parted their ways outside Harry's room. He watched as Nathan went left, past Draco's room and disappeared around a corner before running towards the stairs. The foyer was quiet and undisturbed, which seemed odd considering they were about to get involved in a battle. A sense of foreboding lay in the air, however. It felt similar to how he'd felt when he had arrived at the graveyard with Cedric, before that traitor Wormtail had set the mood in stone by killing the Hufflepuff.

By the time he returned to the foyer to cross to the left wing of the Manor, at least three minutes had passed, though Harry had no way of telling the time. It felt like just seconds and an eternity at the same time but the wards hadn't fully breached yet so it couldn't have been too long.

"Master Eoin!" Lorrie the House Elf popped up behind him, stopping him just as he was about to enter the Dining Room. "Master Finian has found Master Draco!"

"Where?"

"Master Lucius' study, sir! Master Eoin must go there, Master Draco is refusing to leave."

He nodded and made a beeline for the staircase. "Go get my mother, tell her to come as well."

He blinked as his words sank in- he had never before referred to Mrs Malfoy as his mother and had the situation been any less dire, he might've found the time to wonder about it further. For now, he decided to push it to the back of his head and took the stairs two at a time, reaching the study in only seconds.

Nathan stood beside the window, his wand hanging by his side unused, and Draco was opposite him. His wand was raised at Nathan but it shook with tremors. His face was screwed up and red, his eyes slightly puffy and his chest heaving. Both turned their heads at him at his entry and Harry was startled at the utter hatred he could see in Draco's eyes.

"This is all your fault!" He shouted. "Of all the people who could've been Eoin, it just had to be you! If you hadn't been, they wouldn't come after my family!"

He raised his hands in surrender and took a tentative step closer. "Malfoy- Draco, me being here only sped the process up. Do you think Voldemort wouldn't have one day come up with the idea of using Nathan against McGonagall?"

"Father never should've searched for you!"

"I agree," he said. "He shouldn't have. But he did and if we don't move now, we won't live long enough to tell him that."

Draco slowly lowered his wand and nodded but didn't move, not even as Mrs Malfoy stormed in and pulled him into a hug. They only broke apart when Nathan, in a shaking voice, announced that the wards have fallen. Almost immediately, Harry could hear the shouts and the jeers. The sound of spells being flung against the Manor, explosions that took it apart one by one and the quakes that shook them every time another spell hit accompanied them as they took off running. He didn't know where they were running. Mrs Malfoy led them, Draco right by her side. His wand was raised once more but this time, he was using it to shield them both from the debris that would occasionally get through to them. Nathan followed close behind, deathly pale and panting, his own shield wonky. It flickered when hit by the smallest brick and wouldn't hold against a full on explosion, Harry realized as he hurried to catch up with him to cast his own shield on top of Nathan's.

They hurried down the staircase- running straight into a whole bunch of Death Eaters.

They looked just like Harry remembered them. Dressed in black robes that covered their entire body and with golden masks that obscured their faces and made it impossible for him to tell who was trying to kill him.  
There were eight Death Eaters. All of them had their wands raised against them- they were grossly outnumbered. Last time, Harry only fought Voldemort whilst the Death Eaters were ordered to stay back which at least meant they were evenly numbered.

"Narcissa," one of them said.

"Yaxley," Narcissa nodded, raising her wand. Draco, Nathan and Harry dropped their shields to take aim. "I'm not very surprised to find you here. Do me a favor and take off that mask. Look me in the eye."

He took it off and smirked at them toothily. Two of them were missing and some of the ones he did have were horribly misshapen. He gazed at them with dull brown eyes.

"I can only return that sentiment, my dearest Narcissa. Why, I've always assumed that you sympathized with blood traitors."

"You've assumed wrong."

"Have I? Well, then I must've gotten Nathan Longbottom's blood status wrong as well. I was told he was raised to be a Pureblood. A muggle-loving Pureblood. And my, oh my, Harry Potter. Now, he is even worse, isn't he? Raised by Muggles, fighting for Muggles, probably befriending Muggles as well-"

"Must I remind you that you are talking of my sons, Yaxley? Have you forgotten what happened last time you insulted one of my children?"

Yaxley blushed and one or two of his fellow Death Eaters sniggered. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he hissed. "Either you hand us Potter or we take both of them and torture them until they tell us which one is Potter and then we kill Longbottom."

Almost immediately, an urge to just step forward rose in him but that was squashed a second later by the man's malicious smirk. Even if he made it known that he was Harry Potter, they'd still at least kill the others.

"You won't touch them," Mrs Malfoy said, her voice strong and confident.

"Is that so? Who will stop me then? Not you, certainly."

"Don't underestimate me. _Confringo!_ "

An orange spell erupted from her wand that swished down to point at the floor. The marble exploded noisily as flames cut off their view of the screaming Death Eaters. Harry vaguely heard Mrs Malfoy yell at them to run before she and Draco rounded the corner. He grabbed his unmoving brother's hand and tugged him along, blasting another curse behind him as a few of the Death Eaters got around the flames and started to follow them.

Nathan stumbled at the force of the explosion behind them, only just dodging the green light that had been sent his way and sped up. The shaking of his hand stopped.

"Where'd they go?" He yelled over the noise.

"This way!" He pulled Nathan towards the downstairs library.

"Potter! Come on, Potter!" Someone yelled behind them in a sing-song voice. "Or else we'll kill everyone!"

Another spell shot past them, followed by a third. Footsteps approached quickly and Harry sped up as much as he dared whilst still keeping a hold on Nathan's arm. The doors were slammed shut behind them in the very same instance as a bookshelf exploded in front of them as it was hit by a curse.

"Took you long enough," Draco sneered.

"We would've been long gone if you hadn't kept us back," Harry snapped.

Mrs Malfoy levitated another shelf in front of the door. "Now's not the time, you two. Are you all unharmed? Nathan, are you alright?"  
Nathan was shaking, the adrenaline must've begun to wear off, but he wasn't injured besides a few odd cuts and bruises that they all had to deal with. One bit of debris had left an especially nasty cut on his cheek that Harry thought might scar if they didn't get it checked out soon. He himself had a cut or two that could leave him even more scarred than before.

"Fine," Nathan said. "I'm fine."

"Good, then gather around," Mrs Malfoy took a book off a nearby shelf and held it out for them. "Hold onto this and don't let go."

Nathan glanced at the book. "Have you taken down the Anti-Portkey wards?"

"We don't have Anti-Portkey wards. Not ones that work from the inside."

"Yes, you do. My dad's a curse breaker for Gringotts. He taught me how to recognize pretty much every basic ward you can think of. There's Anti-Portkey wards that'll make taking a portkey very difficult, if not impossible."

"Lucius was responsible for the warding, I never studied it," she ran a hand through her hair and paced the room as thuds sounded from the foyer. "I protected the Manor using runes instead. Do you know how we can dismantle the wards?"

"The beginnings, yes, but not much farther than that. Maybe- maybe I can do enough to get us out of here but I wouldn't be able to guarantee that we'll get far beyond the radius. If you could find a way for me to contact my dad, he'd know, he'd get it done if a few minutes."

"What about the House Elves?" Draco asked. "Could they apparate us out? The apparition wards were among the first to fall, I saw them crash just before Longbottom found me."

"That might be possible. We'd have to go one by one, though, Lorrie's barely more than a child, she's not powerful enough-"

"You enslaved a _child_?"

Nathan shook his head. "Now's really not the time, Harry."

"Right. Of course. I can call Dobby, he always wants to help me."

"He won't want to help us, he hates us-"

"He'll help if I ask him to. Dobby!"

The distinctive 'pop' that always announced the arrival of a House Elf was followed immediately by a screech and a thud. A cloud of grey, roughly the size of Dobby, appeared before Harry but when it disappeared, the elf was nowhere to be seen.

"They must've put up wards against House Elves," Nathan leaned back against a nearby table. "Maybe new apparition wards as well, there's no telling unless we try."

"Then let's try!"

He shook his head. "If they did put up wards, we could get killed. My dad warned me against that. If there's even a tiny chance that there's wards, you're not supposed to apparate."

"We can't apparate either way," Draco pointed out. "Mother's the only one who learnt how, she can't Side-Along us all."

The thuds outside the library got louder, harsher. They were trying to break down the door, though Harry couldn't tell what they were using. The bookshelf shook with every blow it was dealt and wouldn't hold for much longer. It was old, not very sturdy looking and the preservation charms that must've been used to keep it functional for so long would begin to wear thin sooner or later.

Stairs led up into the first floor and down into the dungeons, which Harry was strictly forbidden from entering. He'd tried, the day after he'd been told about this limitation, only to be refused entry by a rather stubborn door that had a mind of its own. Old magic, Mrs Malfoy had explained to him. The door had been around longer than the old Mr Malfoy, his grandfather.

"What about the floo?"

Mrs Malfoy shook her head. "Shut it down. Only Lucius can activate them."

"That's stupid," Harry said. "Bloody stupid."

The silence, only interrupted by the jeers and thuds from outside, was almost unbearable. They were trapped. Completely and utterly trapped in the house the Malfoys had wanted him to call home. Nathan, who'd had nothing to do with the war, who'd never seen a Death Eater face to face if his earlier reaction was anything to go by, was being pulled head first into battle, into war, without anything to prepare him. Draco had probably been firmly sided with the Death Eaters before today, although Harry doubted he'd still side with them after they attempted to kill his beloved mother.

"What about your owls?" Mrs Malfoy finally asked. "Have you sent them off already?"

"Yes," Nathan said, frowning. "I told mine to go back home, stay with my mum and dad."

Draco nodded. "Mine's back in the Owl Yard."

"Hedwig probably flew off sometime after we left her," Harry said. "She wouldn't have stuck around for battle."

"So we can't call for help that way," she paled. "We have to fight."

"Fight?" Draco grasped his wand tightly. "We can't fight! We're outnumbered!"

"Not to mention that three of us aren't even of age yet. They've got the advantage of experience."

"All of them were raised as Purebloods, they've received excellent training-"

"Other than anyone who went to Hogwarts since 1991. Incompetence is running high in the DADA department, my grandmum said so-"

"Aren't you two just wonderfully optimistic?" Mrs Malfoy interrupted. "Listen, I know the odds are very bad but what other choice do we have?"

"We could just hand him over, they'll leave us alone."

Harry stepped back and slid his wand into his hand. "We don't have time for this. We should attack while we still have the element of surprise."

"The element of surprise? Harry, we're trapped. There's not much surprise to that."

"They won't expect us to attack, though. For all they know, we're long gone."

He nodded. They only had to get past the wards to safely activate the portkey and from what little Harry could tell, the wards only extended as far as the front gate, which was perhaps thirty yards from the porch. He could run thirty yards in a few seconds and the others should be able to keep up, especially if they were driven by adrenaline. Before they could think of running, though, they had to take care of the Death Eaters that were still attempting to get through the door rather unsuccessfully- Voldemort hadn't sent his best, obviously.

"Right. Eoin, Draco, you stand next to the door," Mrs Malfoy said, slipping back into her old habit of using his real name. Normally, Harry would've protested but they really didn't have any time for that. "Finian, you will levitate the bookshelf out of the way on three. Stand there, next to the table. You and I will take out all those your brothers don't get. As soon as there's a bit of a clearance, Eoin and I will run first to clear the path further and you two will follow. Draco, can I trust you to stick to Finian's side?" He looked at Nathan and nodded. "Good, because you are better trained than him so I expect you to take care of your little brother."

Everyone got into position. Draco stood almost uncomfortably close to him, close enough that there was no way around touching, and kept turning his head slightly to glance at Nathan, who was standing just outside their line of sight. They all had their wands raised in anticipation. Harry's arm shook slightly, not from fear but from anxiety. It felt surreal. Normally, he didn't go rushing into fights, he didn't look for them. They came to him, almost always anyways, and it felt wrong to seek battle now. He felt tiny, too. Standing next to Draco at such close proximity served as a stark reminder that he'd turn fourteen in a few weeks and not fifteen. It was so easy to look at Nathan and see a kid that he just forgot that he was only minutes older than him.

"Ready?" Mrs Malfoy asked. "Finian, on three. One, two, _three_."

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The bookshelf soared away from the door. The Death Eaters smashed through immediately, stumbling into the room and halting confused.

 _"_ _Expelliarmus!"_ Harry shouted, aiming for the closest masked person. Draco's spell hit the one that came through next, knocking him out cold as Mrs Malfoy took care of the one he had disarmed.  
"I know you're against violence," Draco snapped between spells. "But now'd be a good time to have a change of heart!"

"Fine! _Stupefy!_ " Yaxley collapsed on top of a fellow Death Eater before Nathan levitated them out of the way.

"Give up, Potter!" Someone yelled. "You can't win against us!"

He shot another spell. "Let's see it then!"

A new wave of Death Eaters streamed through the door. Harry readied himself and was about to pick up the pace once more when a black-robed figure flew through the room and crashed into the crowd, knocking them back into the hallway. Nathan grinned at him and levitated another unconscious person from the pile of lumps beside him and flung them through the door.

"Eoin! Now!"

He dashed past Draco and down the foyer. Hands grabbed at his ankles but couldn't get a grasp before they were removed one way or another. Behind him, he heard Nathan and Draco follow.

" _Stupefy!_ " He yelled. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

The doors sprang open before them.

"Cissy!" They stopped. Lucius Malfoy, looking rather worse for wear, stood on the porch and looked at her pleadingly. "Cissy, please, please, we can live. Just- Just give them the boy, please, we still have Draco and Finian, we can still be a family-"

"Do you really believe that, Lucius?" She snapped. "I wouldn't want to be married to someone who left his own son for dead and I know for certain that Finian would never accept you after today."

"Cissy, please-"

"I'm sorry, Lucius. I know you're only doing what you think is right to protect our family but your approach is wrong. If I gave you our son now, you would regret it forever. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself. I will do what needs to be done to protect all three of them and if it means cutting you out of our lives, then so be it. The boys are my priority, Lucius. I'm sorry. Come on, Eoin."

They continued running. Malfoy grabbed his robes but Harry pulled away and sent the man on his knees.

"Please, Cissy," he whimpered. "Please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please."

Nathan and Draco stopped short at the sight before them. At Harry's quick nod, Nathan snapped out of it and forced Draco to keep moving just as the Death Eaters came running down the foyer.

"Come on, not far now!" He yelled. As soon as his brothers had caught up with him, Harry started running again.

They reached the gate in no time, long before the limping, numb Death Eaters could hope to and grabbed onto the book Mrs Malfoy pulled out of her robes. He looked back at the Manor. Fire licked at the old façade, reaching higher and farther by the second. He could see his bedroom window, up on the first floor, that had been smashed at some point. All his stuff was in there, all but the album and the Cloak and even though most of it was just rubbish anyway, it was disconcerting to know he'd never get any of it back. A bright green Dark Mark loomed over the flames, exactly as it had that day at the World Cup.

"Harry!" He swiveled his head around. A group of people, led by Professor Lupin was closing in on them but before Harry could answer, he was whisked away by the Portkey.

* * *

 **Writing a battle scene is actually quite hard. Not quite happy with how this turned out but y'know...Anyway, I think there's going to be at least three more chapters until September 1st although the next one might be a bit late since I'll be insanely busy this upcoming week.  
**

 **In regards to the review posted by Guest: Please keep in mind that cowards rarely see themselves as cowards. Lucius really thought he'd be able to handle the situation, which is why he asked Harry and Nathan to give him a chance, but Narcissa knew that Lucius is a coward and would choose himself over Harry. He genuiely wants to protect his family but he can't. Sometimes, love just isn't enough to turn a coward into a hero. You should also consider that Harry, for the longest time, was Lucius' enemy. Getting that image out of his head and replacing it with that of his baby boy is quite difficult, thus making it easier for Lucius to choose himself over Harry. If Voldemort told him to hand over Draco, his reaction would definitely be different in one way or another. We will come back to this though. Lucius' betrayal is pretty much just the beginning of his story arc and it was sort of needed to kick off Draco's arc.**

 **PLEASE leave a review if you enjoyed or if you didn't enjoy it at all. I put a lot of work into this, which is very difficult considering the amount of school work I have, and I'd really appreciate if you could just leave a couple of words before you move on.**


	14. To Defend That Which We Love Most

Ever since the day she had announced her engagement to Ted, Andromeda had been cut off from her entire family, minus a few exceptions. Her two sisters, Bellatrix and Narcissa, hadn't been among those exceptions. She had been a bit disappointed at first, had felt lost even, but as time went, the disappointed trickled away and a sense of relief washed over her. For the longest time, in all of Andy's conscious memory, she'd been at odds with Bella. They were too different, too strong-willed to form the sisterly connection their parents had wanted for them. Bella had followed in their parents' footsteps, right off the bat. She soaked up every opinion they had and gave it her own twist by stretching it into the extreme. By the time Andy joined Bella at Hogwarts, she'd already built a solid reputation as a pureblood extremist, even among the other pureblood extremists like the Malfoy brothers. She'd always gone up and above to make sure everyone knew of her very misguided and rather disgusting views. Most of the students had expected Andy to be just like Bella. Their fellow Slytherins kept a respectful distance, possibly because they wanted to test the waters regarding her sanity first, and the Muggleborns went out of their way to avoid her- until three months into the term, when Andy snapped and ensured that everybody knew that the Black sisters were nothing alike by publically speaking up for a Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff in her year, when Bella was attempting to hex him in the hallway.

When Cissy started Hogwarts, no one really knew what to expect. As a result, everyone was quite weary. Andy, for her part, had actually hoped that, once exposed to Muggleborns, Cissy would start to agree with her but within her first few days at school, she developed a strong dislike for them and from then on, the relationship between Andy and her little sister kept getting worse until they finally broke ties entirely when she announced her engagement to Ted and was, subsequently, disowned.

She did try to make things right once or twice. She sent a letter and a picture to inform Cissy of little Nymphadora's birth and a card to congratulate her on Draco's. When she learnt that her sister and her husband were expecting twin boys and that they'd chosen the names already, courtesy of Bella who could never keep a secret when she could use it to taunt Andy, she crafted two tiny bracelets with the boys' names on them and gifted them to the expecting couple. Yet, she never received an answer. Until the day Cissy wrote to tell her that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was actually her son, Eoin Malfoy, and that she might need Andy's help soon to protect her sons once they found Finian. They bonded a bit over that. They were both mothers and Andy could understand her sister's need to protect her boys and she was more than ready to help her.

On the day after Nathan Longbottom was exposed as Finian Malfoy, Andy finally received the floo call she'd been anticipating- the Death Eaters were closing in on them and Cissy needed to get the boys away. The day Andy had been waiting for had finally come. Cissy had made her final choice and she'd chosen family.

She stood on the back porch as she anxiously waited for her baby sister and her young nephews to arrive whilst Ted was inside to prepare their godson's bedroom for the three boys that would have to live in there for the next few days at least. She wasn't sure how well that'd go, since she'd heard from Nymphadora that the rivalry between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy was quite spectacular but there was simply no helping it.

She straightened as four figured appeared a few yards outside the wards. All four of them were blonde haired and aristocratic looking, although Cissy seemed to have aged drastically within the last few years. There were defined wrinkles around her eyes as she smiled fondly at the son who had fallen to the ground with little grace to his landing.

"They're here!" She yelled into the house before leaving the wards to make herself visible to Cissy and the boys. "Cissy. It's good to see you again."

Cissy sighed in relief and stepped into her embrace. "And you, sister. I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to help me. I'm grateful."

"Oh, hush. You're my sister and those boys of yours are my family. I could hardly leave any of you for naught, could I?"

"Still, I'm grateful."

"As you should be," she winked at her sister and looked at the three boys. They all looked very much alike, more Malfoy than Black. Draco was an almost perfect copy of his father, right down to the eyes, whilst the twins had at least inherited their grandmother Black's blue eyes. The infamous scar still graced the former Potter's forehead, the proof that he was hit by the Killing Curse and lived to tell the tale. The boy shifted his hair to cover the scar almost as soon as she'd spotted it. "You boys must be tired after such a morning. How about-"

"Was that the Dark Mark?" the youngest boy demanded. Cissy sighed.

"Yes, it was-"

"I want to talk to my Grandmum and my parents. They'll be worried, I need to tell them that I'm fine."

"Finian-"

"No, don't call me that. I'm Nathan and I'm sick of all this. Let me talk to my family!"

"Nathan, you can't," Cissy said, hurt creeping into her voice. Andy wondered if that's how Harry and Nate had behaved ever since finding out- it couldn't have been easy for Cissy to have her lost boys deny her at every turn. "No one can know where we are, it wouldn't be safe."

Draco perked up. "Where are we? And who's that?"

She was, admittedly, a little hurt that her nephew didn't even know her. Sure, Cissy had never brought the child to meet her but she'd at least thought that he'd seen pictures of her.

"This is your aunt, Andromeda. We're at her house-"

"What, the Blood-Traitor? The one who married a Mudblood?"

"Don't use that word!" Harry snapped. "There's nothing wrong with Muggleborns."

"They don't understand us. They've been raised too differently-"

Nathan groaned and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, does it matter? My parents won't tell, I just want them to know I'm fine-"

"I'm sorry, Nathan, but I can't risk it. What if they get caught and tortured? You can't be sure they won't tell."

"You're just jealous that I love them better! I won't let you take them away from me!"

The boy stormed off, passing through the wards as though he'd always known they were there, and into the house. She stopped Cissy from following him, making a note in her head strengthen the wards later. The picture of a five-year-old boy shot into her mind, frowning at the line Ted had drawn onto the ground for him to show him where the wards ended. Two years later, that same boy, now aged seven, had grinned proudly after successfully picking out the only spot one could enter the wards through. At almost fourteen years old, those old wards wouldn't keep him in anymore if he had another fit.

"Don't worry about him," she soothed, leading the remaining Malfoys inside the wards. "Ted, my husband, will take care of him. He's had to deal with plenty of fits when Dora was that age."

"No offence, Andy, but I doubt your daughter was ever angry with you for taking her away from her adoptive parents."

"Well, no," she admitted. "But a teenage tantrum is still a teenage tantrum. Give it a few hours and the child will come back with his tail between his legs."

Cissy sank onto a nearby chair. "I'm not so sure. You've only just met him-"

"I've only just met Finian but I've known Nate all his life. Ted is close friends with Kelvin Longbottom, the child's father. We're Nate's godparents, we've helped raise him and I can assure you that he is a very sweet boy. I'm sure you will get to meet my godson soon."

Yet, Cissy buried her face in her hands. Draco shot forward, ready to comfort his mother, but was stopped by Harry. The younger boy shook his head forcefully.

"Draco and I will go check on Nathan."

"Let go of me, you-"

"We'll check on Nathan," Harry repeated, swiftly dragging his brother into the house.

* * *

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing, Potter?" Draco hissed once they were out of earshot from the porch.

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you really want to help your mother, help me sort Nathan out."

"He shouldn't need sorting out. He ought to be grateful-"

"For being taken away from the family he knows and love? I don't need to be Hermione to know that that'd suck. He's got no reason to be grateful but we still need him to see that we need to stick together now."

"Fine," Draco said after a pause. "But once this is over, I'll go back to hating you."

"Yeah, me too," he smiled before looking away quickly. Had he really just _smiled_ at Draco Malfoy of all people? He coughed awkwardly.

"Oi, you lads," a middle aged man stood on top of the stairs, smiling down at them kindly. "Looking for your brother, are you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Do you know where he's gone?"

"Guestroom. It's right through there," he pointed toward his right. "You lads will share the room, I'm afraid. Not much space in here and we can't go renting off Dora's room, now, can we? And none of that 'sir' business, I'm no sir."

Harry grinned and made to jog up the stairs when he caught Draco's sneer.

"Of course you're no sir," he jeered. "You're just a filthy Mudblood."

Ted Tonks' smile immediately slipped. His eyes took on a dangerous glint as he descended the stairs in a quite dramatic manner. He stood before Draco, towering him by over a full head and glared down at him. "You're Andy's nephew and I won't toss you out for grabs but if you think for even one second that I'll let you run around my house with only insults for me and my family on your lips, you're very, very wrong, boy. Is that understood?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir," he hissed.

"Good," Mr Tonks smiled. "Then off you go. Your brother's in need of a bit cheering up, I reckon. Been a bit down when I left him."

Harry nodded and pulled Draco up the stairs. Before they entered the guestroom, he turned back around to face Mr Tonks, who was still watching them from downstairs with a frown on his face that quickly turned into a grin. "Thank you, Mr Tonks."

"No problem, lad. And it's Ted!"

Nathan was curled up on the bed that stood underneath the window. The room was small, hardly any bigger than Dudley's bedroom. Opposite of the bed Nathan had claimed was a set of bunk beds that Harry dreaded having to share with Draco. It was a comfy room, if a bit hastily thrown together. There were a few decorations that looked like they might belong to a child or a young teenager as well as framed pictures of Andromeda and Ted Tonks with a girl that had a different hair colour in each picture. Some of them featured a boy, clearly a lot younger than the girl, with brown hair and eyes that stroke him as slightly familiar.

"This is pitiful," Draco muttered. Nathan snapped his head around and glared.

"If you don't like it, you don't have to stay. I don't want you here anyway."

"And who're you to decide that?"

Nathan sat up and leaned against the wall beside the window. "See those pictures? That little boy? That's me. Ted's my godfather, Andy's my godmother. This is my home, not yours."

Harry went to sit on the lower bunk and looked at Nathan, trying his utmost to channel his inner big brother- he knew he was only a few minutes older but the age difference between Fred and George Weasley wasn't much greater, if at all, and Fred still took the position as big brother. If Fred could do it, so could he. "Listen, Nathan, I know this sucks. Believe me, I'd love to go back to being Harry Potter and I know you want to be Nathan Longbottom again but we can't. This is our life now, if we want it or not. Before, this war didn't involve you. Voldemort probably didn't even have you on his radar, you weren't important to him. Now, you've become someone he'll want dead just because you survived the Death Eaters once. He doesn't like that. He'll target you and anyone close to you, just as he'll target Draco and Mrs Malfoy," he leaned forward. "If we want to get through this, we need to be brothers."

"Brothers-"

"Yeah, brothers," he interrupted. "We don't have to be friends. Brothers aren't always friends. We just need to be brothers and look out for each other because I really, really want you to survive this war."

"And you?"

Harry smiled wistfully.

* * *

 **Only one day late. A big yay for effective time management.**

 **So, as we're nearing the point where the boys will go to Hogwarts, I figured it was time to sort the pairings. I honestly don't know who I want to pair with who. I mean. I've got the final pairings all set up, but I definitely want the boys to have school sweethearts, heartbreaks and that sort of stuff. It's just not realistic for everyone to marry their first love.**

 **Please, if there's any pairing you want to see, tell me in the reviews. Only requirement is that Harry and Draco are straight because that's my personal headcanon. Nathan is fair game though. Keep it legal. I won't pair any of the boys with anyone aged seventeen or older and no younger than fourteen.  
**

 **Oh and if you want to, I'm always open to suggestions for Nathan's Sorting. I've a House in mind, of course, but if you make a solid argument, I might reconsider. I'd like to involve all of you in this process.**


	15. Our Family

He had lucked out. He'd always known that, yet it had never been clearer to him than at that moment, sitting on his bed in his godparents' home in the company of the brothers he never knew he had. The very sight of them made him realize how very lucky he had been, how the events that destroyed their lives were the ones that shaped his into something great. Luck, despite how it seemed at times, had always been on his side, right from the beginning. If he hadn't been kidnapped, he might've grown up into an arrogant snot like Draco, who had probably never worked a day in his life and deemed himself more worthy simply because of the blood in his veins. He lucked out even more when Dumbledore decided to hand his twin brother to the Potters and left him to be adopted by the Longbottoms. Had it been the other way around- Nathan didn't know if he could've lived with the hand Harry's been dealt by fate. He didn't even know if he would've lived to see his first birthday or the day that marked the first six months of his life. He got lucky. He was adopted by a family that loved him unconditionally and for that, he was grateful. He was wanted and loved, protected by people who'd lay down their lives for him. Draco, whilst loved and wanted, was the son of a perfect coward and Harry, from everything he'd seen so far, was neither wanted nor loved by whoever had raised him.

"At least you were raised a pureblood," Draco remarked, looking around the room unimpressed. An urge rose in him to smack that look out of his face- he _loved_ this room, now more than ever. "I mean, if you were their kid, you'd be a pureblood, right?"

"Almost," he said. "My grandfather on Mum's side was a Muggle but I have ancestors that go back as far Phineas Nigellius Black and Tiberius Longbottom."

"I do as well. The earliest Malfoy I can trace my line back to is Armand Malfoy. He was the one to migrate from France," he paused. "Your middle name is Armand. Mother told me yesterday."

Finian Armand Malfoy. It seemed like something the Malfoys would name their son, although he really didn't like the sound of it, especially Armand. Although he did suppose that middle names were meant to be horrible- his middle name was Bernard, after all.

"And mine?" Harry asked.

Draco scowled. "Abraxas. After my…our grandfather."

He'd heard of Abraxas Malfoy before. He was quite sure he'd seen his name in the papers a few years back when it was announced that Lucius Malfoy had taken over as Head of House.

"So, where's he?"

"Dead," Draco said, staring at Harry coldly. "He died when I was twelve."

"Oh. Sorry."

An awkward silence ensued. Nathan shifted uncomfortably before getting up. Draco and Harry looked at him, their eyes pleading for him to break the tension the talk of Abraxas Malfoy had brought.

"Maybe we should go downstairs. I haven't even talked to Aunt Andy yet and I suppose I ought to apologize to your mother."

"Yes, you ought to," Draco nodded. "She's been fretting over you since we learnt you were alive. It's hardly fair of you to treat her like that."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And it's fair of you to treat Mrs Tonks like she's something beneath you even though she's saving our butts?"

"She's probably only helping us because she knows that it's the only way to save her godson."

"Don't be ridiculous," he rolled his eyes. "My godmother would never let her family suffer. Even the part of the family that's cut her off and ignored her for whom she loves. That's just the way she is," he paused. "Have you called her or my godfather names?"

"None that weren't the truth."

He narrowed his eyes. He knew, had known since he was a little boy, that both his godparents weren't very well received in the higher society of the Wizarding World. His godfather had suffered their discrimination since he was a child himself, just because he was born to Muggle parents. He'd met his parents and they were perfectly lovely people, if a bit clumsy here and there. Aunt Andy had once belonged to that high society, up until she decided to stand up for Uncle Ted and sided with the Muggleborn population of Hogwarts and, eventually, agreed to marry him. His cousin Nymph had, therefore, never been looked upon kindly by the pureblood elite but Nathan knew she was glad for it.

They weren't any lesser than the Malfoys though. They were brilliant people, they were family, and a whole lot better than Lucius Malfoy could ever hope to be.

"Don't call them names," he finally said. "Or you'll soon find out that there's a whole other side to them. Especially Nymph, she'll skin you alive if you insult her parents."

Harry glanced at him and nodded. "We should probably go down."

He led the way downstairs, ignoring his brothers' curious glances around the hall, which was decorated with pictures that occasionally included him. His godparents and Mrs Malfoy were seated in the living room, Mrs Malfoy looking as comfortable as Draco did, although her unease seemed to stem from something else entirely. The room was plunged in tense silence.

"Everything okay here?" He asked.

Aunt Andy smiled at him and stood up. "Of course. I'm glad you're here, Nate."

He melted into her embrace that blessedly still felt the same as it had before. Uncle Ted came up behind her and joined the hug whilst Harry and Draco edged away and sank into the couch he could see out of the corner of his eye.

"It's good to see you, kid. We've been worried."

He pulled away. "Have Mum and Dad contacted you?"

"Your Dad called yesterday, just after they found out. Your grandmum told them after you left, she didn't want them to be taken by surprise when the Ministry came round to question them."

He frowned. "The Ministry?"

"Yes," Mrs Malfoy said, looking at him kindly despite his earlier outburst. "They are trying to figure out who took you and Eoin- Harry. Your adoptive parents are the easiest way to go about it, I suppose."

"They won't be arrested, will they? Mum won't survive Azkaban, not after this-"

"They'll be fine," Uncle Ted soothed, leading him to the nearest armchair. "We need to concentrate on what to do with you now."

They sat in silence for a while, all immerged in their thoughts. He hadn't even considered that his parents could become subject of an investigation although it did make sense. When the search for Eoin and Finian first began, an investigation into the people who had them was the only logical step- of course, all logic was tossed out the window when he turned out to be Finian. His parents weren't involved in his kidnapping. They couldn't be. They weren't the sort of people that would take another couple's child away from them, no matter how desperate they were to have one of their own. Yes, he'd always known that around the time of his adoption, his parents had reached a bit of a breaking point that threatened their marriage but they'd never stoop to such a level. They'd already started the process of adopting at the time they travelled to the USA for a business trip of his Dad's. He'd heard the story a million times, the story of how they found him. They'd been walking down a deserted alleyway in magical New York when they heard a whimper. They found him lying in a basket with nothing on him but the swaddling clothes he wore. No one had been more surprised than them, especially when the orphanage actually allowed them to adopt him. Well, except his grandmum perhaps.

"Will we be going back to Hogwarts in September?" Harry asked suddenly.

Mrs Malfoy nodded. "I believe that'd be best. Despite everything, Hogwarts is where you will be safest. The wards are near indestructible and I have faith that they will do their best to protect you. Especially Severus and, yes, Professor McGonagall. Of course, we'll have to arrange a few things but those can wait. For now, I would like to propose an idea to you boys. I want you to have part in this and I feel you should get to decide as well," she took a deep breath. "I wish to divorce your father."

"What?!" Draco jumped up. "No! You can't divorce Father! He's always treated you well-"

"Draco, dear, this is about more than our marriage. If I divorce your father, I go back into the protection of House Black and so do you."

"We'd have to take the name Black though," he pointed out, remembering the book on Family Laws his Grandfather had made him read when he was ten. "And Sirius Black would have to consent to that."

"He will," Harry said quickly. "He's my godfather. He'll want to keep me save with those…protections."

They looked at Draco, who was still staring at his mother in shock. Nathan could relate, he figured. He's be shocked too if his mother suddenly announced she was divorcing his dad. This was different, though. Belonging to the Blacks would keep them save- or at least, it wouldn't leave them as exposed as they were now. With the events of the morning, Lucius Malfoy couldn't hope to sue for custody either, even if he was influential with the Minister.

"What would those protections entail? Will they keep you save when we go back to school?"

"Yes, they will. They grant us residence in the Black Family Home. It's one of the oldest, best warded places in all of Britain. No one has been able to enter it since Walburga's death a few years ago. No one knows what sort of spell has been used for the warding, it's too old. All I know is that the wards are strengthened by Black blood. The more Blacks that live there, the stronger the wards are. As our kin, Sirius would be responsible for us financially unless he disowns us. It's our best option, Draco."

He hesitated and Nathan held his breath. If Draco chose to disagree to the divorce, he might as well take the Dark Mark right then and there- he couldn't support a Death Eater and expect safety with the Light. He didn't desire to see Draco die, however. He just had to choose right, as he had earlier that day when he chose to follow his mother instead of stay with his father.

"Aright," he said finally. "Do it. I want you to do it if it keeps you save."

Mrs Malfoy sighed in relief. "Thank you, Draco."

The moment was ruined as a loud crash sounded in the hallway. Mrs Malfoy, Draco and Harry jumped and drew their wands but Uncle Ted simply chuckled.

"That'll be our daughter, Dora. She's…unfortunately clumsy. I fear that's my fault, my parents are just like her."

"Just me!" Nymph shouted as the noise finally stopped. He heard a clanking sound as she righted the cupboard she always knocked over. Seconds later, she walked into the living room. Instead of the happy grin he'd expected to see on her face, she looked grim.

"What?" He asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Dumbledore," Nymph said gravely. "They've charged him with the kidnapping of Eoin and Finian Malfoy," she looked at him and Harry sadly. "If he's caught, he's looking at a life sentence. He won't be coming back to Hogwarts."

* * *

 **My computer just crashed and I can't be bothered to rewrite everything I wrote in this AN so here's the short version:**

 **Black protection: Head of House is required to provide for Black kin if kin is in need of help. To be eligible for Black protection, Narcissa, Draco, Harry and Nathan have to be named 'Black'  
**

 **Armand and Abraxas Malfoy: Actual Malfoys, 100% legit**

 **Keep the suggestions for pairings and Nathan's house and sexuality coming. We might start the Hogwarts arc next chapter, maybe the one after that, who knows.**

 **Sorry that I'm late btw and that this chapter is sort of shitty, I'm in the final phase of my exams season and it's killing me.**


	16. United We Grow

She looked at her middle son's retreating back as he pushed past her niece and stomped up the stairs. Her youngest sat stunned, staring off into the air as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard. Despite him having never gone to Hogwarts, Narcissa didn't doubt that his head was filled with the wondrous stories of the great Albus Dumbledore that most children grew up with. The infallible Dumbledore, pushed off his mighty throne. Draco seemed to have come to the same conclusion as her, although his face betrayed his smug happiness. He'd never liked Dumbledore. His faith in his father ran far too deep to put any in the old Headmaster.

"The old coot's a fugitive?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Serves him right."

"What about my grandmother?" Nathan asked before she could attempt to say anything to Draco.

He looked up at his cousin with big eyes, blue like his father's but with a tint of grey, just like her and Harry's. Fear was prominent all over his features, fear for the family he loved and accepted. She felt a twinge in her heart. Professor McGonagall and the Longbottoms, of all people, were the ones her son loved whilst her middle baby had taken a shining to such figures as the Potters and their friends. Muggleborns were among Harry's consorts, Blood Traitors and fugitives, werewolves and Halfbreeds. Neither of them included her in their lists of loved ones. They were _her_ babies, she had carried them for eight months and had worried over their premature birth even though the Healers had assured her that it was perfectly normal for twins to be born premature. They hadn't received the treatment they had needed, Narcissa knew that much. They were much too small, both of them, just like when they were just infants. Her babies, and the people that raised them hadn't taken as much care of them as they should've, even if Nathan believed himself loved above all.

"Oh, wotcher, Natey," her niece grinned, looking at Nathan as though seeing him for the first time, which, all things considered, was the truth. "Have you gotten smaller?"

"No," Nathan said drily. "You've gained a couple inches. Answer me, please? Is my grandmother alright?"

It wasn't until Nymphadora suddenly lost a head of height that Narcissa remembered her rather extraordinary talent- Metamorphagi hadn't been seen in the Black Family for almost three centuries and when she first heard of Nymphadora's abilities, she had known to appreciate the dry irony that the first time the gene rose to the surface again, it happened to be in the daughter of a disowned Black.

Nymphadora opened her arms with an inviting smile and Nathan, not once letting go of the tension in his shoulders, stepped into her embrace. When she had contacted Andy, she hadn't expected, couldn't have expected, how much it would make her yearn after the years and the memories she missed out on with her twins. Yet, every interaction between Nathan and Andy's family strengthened her heartache. All they needed to do was open their arms and the child would gladly melt into them. _She_ wanted to be able to hug Harry and Nathan. She wanted Harry to love her enough to defend her with everything he had, as she would for him and as he would for the Potters. He wanted Nathan to look at her with the same love his eyes held when he looked upon the Tonks', for him to reflect the love she felt for him.

"Your gran is alright," she said, hugging Nathan tightly. "She's with your parents. They've all been cleared of any charges."

The unspoken 'for now' hung in the air but the boy didn't pick up on it. His shoulders slumped in relief and, when he stepped back, a smile graced his features. He sat back down on the couch, Nymphadora taking up the seat Harry had been in previously.

"We will still continue as planned," she said decidedly once her son and niece settled down. "Even without Dumbledore, Hogwarts is still the safest place for you to be."

"I agree," Andy said. She looked at her daughter. "Sirius informs me you were at the Manor today?"

Nymphadora nodded. "Me and some of the Order."

"The Order?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," she answered, sharing a meaningful glance with Nathan. "It's been reinstituted."

Andy frowned. "Is it possible that someone in the Order knows about the Headmaster's whereabouts?"

"Not that I know of. Snape mentioned that Dumbledore meant to retreat for a while, lay low."

"Is he okay?" Draco asked, perking up. "Severus? Is he alright?"

Her niece shrugged. "As fine as someone with permanent grease can be, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, I didn't ask him," she snorted. "The Giant Squid will learn to fly sooner than I will ask him if he's alright."

Draco scowled. "He wouldn't hate you that much if you weren't so terrible at potions."

"I'm a Hufflepuff, he'd hate me even if I was a genius."

When Severus informed them, for a reason Narcissa couldn't fathom, that the girl had been sorted into Hufflepuff, she had been both surprised and unsurprised. Her father, the Muggleborn, was a Hufflepuff, after all, it was only natural that she'd take after him in some ways. Still, the better part of her forebears consisted of Slytherins and so it was always a bit of a surprise when one so closely related to the Black line was sorted anywhere but Slytherin. Sitting in front of the girl now, however, made it clear why she wasn't put in Slytherin.

Her eyes wandered to Nathan. Seeing him in his natural surroundings made her wonder about his sorting- before, he'd seemed like a sure case for Ravenclaw, maybe Slytherin, but now, she wasn't so sure anymore. Lucius would say that Nymphadora and Ted had spoilt their son, had turned him away from Slytherin and filled his head with mushy lies about Hufflepuff that were meant to make Badgers feel better about their sorting. Nathan was no Slytherin, just as Harry wasn't one. She'd seen some Slytherin traits in the boy over the last few days that could've landed him in her old house but the events of the morning had proven her wrong. In a tragic way, battle was becoming Harry's natural surroundings and once he had been thrown into them, he might as well had worn robes blaring red and gold, for the very sight of him screamed of the house of Lions. When she had looked into his eyes just before they fought their way out of the library, there had been little Malfoy inside them. The glint she had seen had been the one her cousin Sirius got when his bravery took over his actions.

She stood up as Nathan and Nymphadora started talking among themselves. Draco's eyes followed her swiftly but, upon seeing her shake her head, didn't make a move to follow her. Instead, he shifted to watch his younger brother and their cousin.

She found Harry in the guest bedroom, which, judging by the pictures, was regularly used as Nathan's bedroom. Her son was laying on the lower bunk of the bunk bed that stood in one corner of the room with his head propped up against the wall, a picture frame in his hand. He glanced up at her as she entered before looking back at the picture. She sat on the twin bed opposite the bunk.

"This could've been me," Harry said softly. He angled the frame slightly to show her the photo inside it. Nymphadora was pictured on it as she threw her arm around a small brown-haired boy of around eight years. She was wearing her Hogwarts robes, proudly showing off her Hufflepuff crest and had tied the black and yellow tie around the little boy, who was grinning back at the camera with a gap where his front teeth should be. "I'm happy that Nathan got all this. He deserves to be happy but it could've been me."

"Yes, it could've. Your life would've been very different if Finian had been given to the Potters."

"They wouldn't have had to give their lives for me," he whispered.

She shook her head. "I hardly knew your…parents," she said. "But I know one thing. Had your brother been given to them, they would've sacrificed themselves for him the same they did for you because they were incapable of watching their child die. They would've given their lives for Finian had he been given to them. It wasn't your fault that they loved you too much to see you dead."

"They shouldn't have had to in the first place. If their son was already dead, they could've lived and-"

"And what? Child, you have made such a huge difference. Had anything gone different, had Finian turned into Harry Potter or had the Potters accepted their son's death, everything would be different today. I don't condone what they have done. I have missed too much to ever forgive them for raising my child but had they not done what they have, just think of how different life would be."

"Would it?" He asked. "It'd be just the same, only with me as Nathan and him as Harry."

"You and your brother may be twins but you're not the same person. If you had been in his shoes, you wouldn't have made the same choices he did, just like he would have done things his way had he been you."

In a way, she was almost glad that Eoin had been chosen to replace Harry Potter. Eoin, for a reason unknown to her, was able to survive the Killing Curse but, for all she knew, Finian wasn't. She couldn't bear to think what would've happened had her youngest been given to the Potters- had they, sometime after October 1981, discovered that their child had fallen victim to the man they served? She wouldn't have been able to live with her baby's death and Eoin, at the very least, was alive.

"I can contact Sirius," he said after a while. "If you want me to."

"That would be very nice of you."

He gave her a tentative smile and, even though it was only small and short, Narcissa was quite sure that it was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She blinked away the tears and tried to ignore the fluttering inside her heart at her baby boy's first smile for her. She stood up, took the frame out of his hands and placed it on the nightstand. She hesitated, took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair quickly. He didn't lean into it but, she realized with an ever growing smile, didn't pull away either.

"Don't hole yourself up in here for too long, alright? I'm sure Nymphadora would love to meet you and I'm afraid if we leave Draco alone with them for too long, he'll say something he'll grow to regret."

"Sure," he grinned. "I'll just write that letter first."

"Bring it down with you, your aunt and uncle will send it off."

She left the room and closed the door behind her before leaning against it with a smile on her face. For the first time since they'd found Eoin, things were finally growing better and if her son had to be Harry to be happy then she wouldn't be the one to forbid it- not anymore. Eoin or Harry, he was _her_ son and he had finally stopped shutting her out completely.

* * *

 _Padfoot,_

 _How are you? I hope you're well and safe. Have you come back to England yet? I hope you have because I need your help. I'm not sure if you've heard yet but in case you haven't, I'll tell you. A week or so ago, I found out that I'm not the real Harry Potter. I was born as Eoin Malfoy and I'm apparently a twin. It's all very weird and confusing but I think I'll be alright. Will you? I know you don't like the Malfoys very much but they're actually alright, except for Mr Malfoy but he's not with us anymore._

 _That's what I meant to write to you about. Earlier today, Malfoy was summoned by Voldemort and an hour later, Death Eaters stormed the Manor. We've escaped alright and back-up arrived just as we left, I even saw Professor Lupin. He called my name just before the Portkey took us away. We're safe for now._

 _Mrs Malfoy has come up with a plan for us to stay safe permanently but we'll need your help for that. I hope you don't mind. She said something about protections that you had to give us if we needed it. She wants to have a divorce too and if everything goes right, we're supposed to go back to Hogwarts using Black as our last name. Oh, and did you know that McGonagall has a grandson? I didn't. Turns out, her grandson is my twin brother. His name is Nathan and he seems okay. I only met him yesterday._

 _Anyway, I hope you're alright and can help us. Mrs Malfoy isn't bad at all. She's nice and even Draco isn't too horrible once you know him a bit better. I really don't want them or Nathan hurt just because they're related to me._

 _I'll tell you about everything that's happened when we see each other._

 _Harry_

* * *

 **Okay, I lied. We still have one more chapter to go before September 1st. I dunno why I thought I'd get the holidays over with in this chapter, there was no way that was gonna happen. As it is, I'll already speed-forward through most of the holidays. (For reference, this chapter is set at the end of June). Then again, my planning was a bit off from the very beginning. Can you imagine that I originally only planned a total of twenty chapters? That obviously didn't work, as I already needed 17 chapters to get through the holidays. Until three chapters ago, I was aiming for thirty chapters but it seems that's still too few. Maybe I should aim high and go for fifty-ish.  
**

 **ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE:**

 **In light of recent events, I hope you're all well. I know lots of you are from the USA, some maybe even from around Orlando. Please stay safe, guys. If you attend any Pride events the next few weeks (specially in Houston, Texas) please make sure that you have an emergency plan ready and that people know where you are. I know this doesn't belong in this story but this horrible attack has been on my mind all week and I couldn't not address it in some way. If you haven't figured it out by now, I feel very strongly about the LGBTQ+ community. I have friends and family that is part of the community and the thought of them being killed just for who they are is just terrible. Be safe, guys. Someday, LGBTQ+ members won't have to fear for their lives anymore but until then, it's important that you look out for yourselves.**

 **Each and every one of the 49 victims will be missed very, very dearly and didn't deserve this. Pulse Nightclub was supposed to be a safe place for them, somewhere they could be themselves without having to fear judgement, and to think that that safe place became their grave is simply heartbreaking.**

 **If you think being LGBTQ+ is wrong/disgusting/gross/a sin, I strongly urge you to stop reading. I don't want you here and I'm sure you won't want to be here once I start dealing with Nathan's sexuality.**

 **I would also like to remember the people who have died in Lebanon since last Sunday. First the bank bombing and just today (June 17th) a car bomb went off, also in Beirut, that left too many dead. The world is steadily going down a very dark path and it's so important that we don't close our eyes to it, no matter if the terror is happening in the USA or the Middle East. We need to stick together now, regardless of sexuality, gender, nationality or religion. We need to be _people_ now. **

**I'm sorry if you feel this note is inappropriate and I agree that this is maybe not the right platform to mention it but I felt it was needed, if only for myself.**


	17. Together

**Right, well, I rewrote this chapter since last night, when I first uploaded it. Originially, I was reasonably satisfied with this chapter but StarDuchess' review actually left me incredibly unhappy with the way I finished the holidays off because I actually did plan to do some more family scenes and all but figured I was moving too slow. Since the pace doesn't seem to bother you (no one's mentioned it going too slow at least) I decided to prolong the holidays by this and next chapter. Next week, I might upload two chapters, since I'm thinking I'll probably make Chapter 18 a collage sort of. Just a few moments at Grimmauld Place that aren't necessarily connected to each other, just to get those new bunnies out of my head that won't fit once we start at Hogwarts. Let me know what you think about that.  
**

 **If you don't want to reread the whole chapter, go find the * - before that, everything is 100% the same.**

* * *

Tonks came to bring them to the Black family home a few days after Draco's birthday. They hadn't celebrated much, definitely less than he seemed to be used to because for most the day, he could be found sulking in some corner of the house. Harry wasn't too happy either that day, suddenly reminded that he would be turning fourteen in a month instead of fifteen. He hadn't thought about it during the last week or so but now, the thought of turning fourteen _again_ had his head churning. He was less than two weeks older than Ginny now. By all rights, he was supposed to start Fourth Year, together with Ginny, this upcoming autumn and even though Mrs Malfoy hadn't made any mention of him having to repeat the year, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He didn't want to be a Fourth Year again. Going through it once was bad enough, he really didn't need a second round. Not to mention that it would make him the laughingstock of Hogwarts. No one had to repeat a year, it just wasn't done. Even Crabbe and Goyle got to move forward every year and they were dumber than the Troll Harry and Ron had fought in First Year. If he had to repeat- as if they needed any more reason to make fun of him.

"Everyone ready?" Tonks grinned as Harry came into the living room. Everyone else was already there. Draco looked as though he was itching to leave, quite the opposite of Nathan, who frowned at Tonks unhappily. He had grown used to being himself again, to be around people he knew for sure wouldn't judge him. Ever since they had woken that morning, his brother had been subdued and Harry thought he understood. He always felt that way when he had to trade Hogwarts for the Dursleys. "Grab onto this."

She held out an old, tattered umbrella and one by one, they wrapped their hands around it.

"See you, Aunt Andy, Uncle Ted," Nathan said, grimacing.

"You be good, Nate," they always called him 'Nate', never 'Nathan'. "We'll be in contact."

Nathan nodded. Tonks muttered something under her breath and then, Harry felt the tug behind his navel as he was whisked away from the Tonks' cottage. A whirlwind of colours flew past him until his feet touched to the ground roughly. They were on a dark street, somewhere close to the city by the sounds of it. A row of townhouses, all grey and dull, were in front of them.

"Here," Tonks handed each of them a piece of paper. "Read these- not aloud though! They'll burn themselves once you've read them."

Harry glanced down. _The Headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place_. He dropped it promptly as it burst into flames and looked up again- another house had appeared between Number 11 and 13. 12 Grimmauld Place, which hadn't been there when Harry had last looked, was standing solidly, looking as though it had always been there. It seemed even greyer and duller than the rest of the houses. An uncomfortable feeling spread in Harry's stomach- the place didn't look nice at all, unlike the Tonks' cottage, which was comfy and homey.

"Well, come on then."

Tonks skipped ahead of them and opened the door. A crash sounded from inside, followed by inhumane screeching. Harry winced as Nathan clamped his hands over his ears with a resounding _smack_. Even Draco took a definite step back at the screaming.

"Sorry!" Tonks yelled. Harry followed her and Mrs Malfoy inside.

"What's that?" He asked.

Mrs Malfoy sighed and stepped aside to let a group of men Harry didn't think he knew wrestle the curtains over a picture. "That's my Aunt Walburga. She was always…rather vocal."

"That's one way to put it."

Harry's head whirled around. There, in the doorway, stood Sirius. He was still gaunt and hallowed-cheeked but he looked nowhere near as bad as he had when they last met. He shot forward, around Mrs Malfoy and the group of men, and hugged his godfather.

"Hello, pup," Sirius said once they pulled away. "And here I thought you were the good-looking one," he winked at Nathan but Nathan only frowned at him wearily.

Harry could've slapped his forehead- in the hurry of the last few weeks, he hadn't ever thought of informing Nathan about Sirius' innocence and Nathan had never asked either.

"He's innocent," he said but Nathan's frown didn't cease. "He was framed."

"Framed?" Nathan asked skeptically, ignoring the way everyone but Draco eyed him. "By who?"

"Peter Pettigrew," Sirius snarled. "The rat cut off his finger to blame me for Lily and James' death. Don't worry, kid, I'm tame. Even if I were a killer, I wouldn't hurt you. Minnie would skin me alive if I hurt her precious grandson and-"

"Harry!" Hermione and Ron ran down the stairs, adding to the noise level. They came to a halt at the foot of the staircase and looked between him and Nathan. Nathan shoved his hands in his pocket and waited with a raised eyebrow. The portrait stopped screaming and everyone released a breath as one. "Um, which one of you is Harry?"

He grinned. "It's me, 'mione."

"Oh, Harry!" She threw her arms around him, which was slightly awkward as he was a good bit smaller than her, but he still relished in the familiarity. "It's so good to see you! I was worried, Ron wouldn't tell me anything-"

"I told you, I didn't know more than you."

"And you must be Nathan!" she turned around and held out her hand toward his brother, who looked at her stunned. Draco snorted behind him and walked past them into the room Sirius had entered through, along with his mother and the majority of the people present. "I'm Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry's. It's very nice to meet you."

"Uh, yeah. You too. My grandmum was very impressed by the essay you owled her at the beginning of summer."

"Your grandmother?"

"Professor McGonagall," he clarified, letting go of her hand. He shifted. " Uh, she's my grandmother."

"Oh, really? That must be exciting!"

He shrugged. "Dunno. As exciting as any grandmum, I guess."

"That's wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "If we've got him with us, McGonagall won't punish us anymore."

"Don't be silly, Ronald. I bet she wouldn't favour Nathan and we don't even know which House he'll be in yet."

They continued bickering for a while and whilst Harry enjoyed his return to normality, he decided to take pity on his younger brother after a few minutes. The look in his eyes screamed for help and Harry could definitely see why- for someone who wasn't used to Ron and Hermione, it must've been very overwhelming.

"Guys," he said. "I think Nathan and I should go say hello to everyone else and then you'll have to tell me what's going on. No one's been telling us anything."

Ron nodded and led the way into what seemed to be the kitchen and dining room. "Mum's been dying to see you, mate."

Almost the second they stepped in, he was wrapped into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hello, Harry, dear," Mrs Weasley said.

"You sure that's Harry, Mum?"

Mrs Weasley pulled away. Fred and George stood slightly behind her, grinning, and looked over Harry's shoulder, where he suspected Nathan to be. He heard Nathan clear his throat.

"He's Harry. I'm Nathan, his, uh, brother."

Fred grinned and held his hand out for Nathan. "Well, it's your lucky day, Harry's brother. I'm Gred and that's my brother, Forge. We're your grandmother's favourite students ever."

"My grandmum said not to believe a word you said if I ever met you."

Ginny burst out laughing. Fred pulled his hand back with a mock insulted look on his face. "I'm wounded!"

"Oh, leave the poor boy alone, boys!" Mrs Weasley smiled at Nathan. "Are you hungry, dear? You two are too thin, really. What have they been feeding you?"

"Thank you but I'm not really hungry. Uh, would you mind telling me where I can put my stuff? I- I'm just tired. Portkey travel does that to me."

Tonks was immediately at Nathan's side and leading him away. Harry didn't believe that he was simply tired- Tonks wouldn't have looked so worried had it been just that and for a moment, Harry felt guilty for being so happy. The Weasleys were always a bit chaotic and Nathan hadn't even met all of them yet. To him, it must've been a very strange and disorienting experience- he still remembered how he felt when he first spent time with all Weasleys.

As everyone went back to what they were doing, Harry took a moment to look around the room. Mrs Weasley was busy in the kitchen area, cooking up what looked like a meal for an entire army. Mrs Malfoy and Sirius were seated opposite each other in what seemed to be deep conversation, with Lupin sitting just beside Sirius. Fred and George had taken up the couch that stood in the corner for themselves, talking in hushed tones. Mr Weasley and a tall, black skinned man were also talking among themselves, together with Professor Moody. His magical eye was spinning around, never stopping and Harry still found the sight as unsettling as ever. Ron and Hermione sat at the table with Ginny. He smiled at them and sat down beside Ginny.

"Was it awful at Malfoy Manor?" Ron asked immediately.

He shrugged. "It was okay, I guess."

Hermione leant forward. "What's the plan? Will you come back to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, all three of us will. Uh, I think I'll still be Fifth Year and I guess Nathan will be a Fourth Year. Mrs Malfoy said we can't go as Harry and Nathan though because Harry Potter died when he was a baby and Nathan Longbottom never technically existed."

 ***** "And how's it being, y'know…Malfoy's brother?"  
They glanced at Draco, who sat by himself, completely out of place in his fine clothes. He looked awkward and was concentrating on his hands intently.

"Not as bad as I'd thought," he finally said in a low voice. "He's still an idiot though. He kept making fun of Mr Tonks and Nathan decked him when he called Tonks a whore."

"But she's so nice!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing at the frowns that were immediately sent her way. "Still."

"I agree but he doesn't. He's…gotten better since."

They sat talking until the early evening, when Mrs Weasley called Ginny, Ron and Hermione to help her with dinner. Harry tried to stand up to help as well but was ordered briskly to stay seated. Sirius merely winked at him before going back to his conversation with Mrs Malfoy which Draco was silently listening to. He was about to get up to go find Nathan when his brother walked in. Harry nodded toward the seat Ron had just vacated and smiled as Nathan sat down.

"Where's Tonks?"

"Back to Aunt Andy and Uncle Ted's to have dinner with them. She does that every now and then."

"Must've been nice," he said, only a little bitterly. "To grow up with them, I mean."

Nathan nodded. "I never realized until now. Of course, I always knew that I had a good family and that I was lucky and all but now…I loved my life."

"Do you miss them?"

"Do you miss your family?" Nathan snapped back. His face softened almost immediately. "Sorry. I know you didn't have what I had. Yes, I miss them. Every day. I just wish I could tell them that I'm fine."

Harry had noticed that. Oftentimes, Nathan would retreat, would express a wish to be by himself and whenever Harry stumbled over him at such times, he'd find him with a sad expression on his face and, sometimes, even with tears running down his cheeks. Every time he noticed Nathan's mood pummel down, Harry felt a growing desire to take the pain away from him. He figured that was what it felt like to be a brother- maybe a big brother even, since he _was_ a few minutes older. In a way, he liked that feeling. It wasn't anything like what he had expected but it was nice. He liked the way Nathan's mere presence calmed him and kept him from exploding at times and he especially liked that Nathan seemed to feel the same for him, at least a little. At mealtimes, they'd sit with each other and Nathan had even shared childhood stories with him. He wasn't envious of the life his brother had gotten- between the two of them, Nathan deserved it more. He wondered if that thought came stemmed from being a brother- maybe he ought to ask Fred sometime. Fred, like Harry, was the older of the twins after all.

"Dinner!" Mrs Weasley announced, plucking a bowl onto the table. "Dig in!"

* * *

 **I only just noticed that I messed up Draco's birthdate in this chapter (I wrote this last week or so) but since I'm too lazy to change it, there'll be an explanation for his late birthday party next chapter.  
**

 **I fast-forwarded through everything I didn't think was important. Arguably, I shouldn't have cut through the divorce but I figured Lucius, having been arrested and charged with being a Death Eater, wouldn't be able to make a case for himself so it was pretty clear who'd be awarded custody of the boys. Would've been boring to read and write so I saved all of us from that.**

 **With this chapter, this story is now officially 100 Word pages long. *yay* That's by far the most I've ever written and frankly, I'm quite proud of myself.**

 **Yeah...also...Brexit, eh? Sorry about that. Old people really f*cked the British young gen over with this one.**


	18. As A Family

In the end, he didn't get around to talking to Fred until two days later when Mrs Weasley decided that cleaning the house would go a lot faster if they did it in pairs of two. She sent Harry to clean out a few cabinets in the drawing room on the ground floor together with Fred whilst putting Nathan and George to work in the kitchen. She must've had a hunch, or maybe she had simply noticed his attempts to catch Fred alone. No matter her motives, Harry knew that this was likely to be his only chance to run some thoughts by him.

They started working in silence. Before, Harry only interacted with both twins, most of the time at least. It took skill to get just one of them because they were so intent on being with each other every second they could- he wondered if he and Nathan might've been like that had they grown up together but doubted it. They weren't much alike. Even if they were, Harry had never met brothers as close as those two before. No one could grow to be like them.

"So, Ickle Harrikins," Fred began after a while, startling Harry out of his thoughts. "What's got you all riled up?"

"I'm not riled up," the redhead raised an eyebrow. "I'm not. I just…I have some questions."

"Don't worry, Harrikins, the changes that your body is going through are very normal-"

"Not that kind of question!" Harry blurted out, feeling his face flush a deep red at Fred's wink. "I meant about being a brother or, uh, having a younger twin brother."

"How do you know I'm the older one?"

"Uh, I dunno, someone told me, I guess."

Fred put his scrub down and leant against the wall. "I don't think so."

"Well, they must've," he shrugged. "Will you help me or not?"

"Course. What do you want to know?"

He blew the dust off the surface of the cabinet. "When George is sad," he began. "do you feel bad for him?"

He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen either of them sad but there must be times when they weren't as happy and carefree as they always appeared. Everyone got upset once in a while, even the happiest people- Harry had learnt that a long time ago.

"Naturally. I want none of my siblings to be unhappy, that's the way it works when you're a brother."

"But with George more so?" He pushed, deciding to ignore the many times the twins had been the cause for Ron's bad mood.

Fred shrugged and went back to stuffing old papers into the bag Mrs Weasley had given them. "I guess so but everything is different with George."

"Why?"

"Because he's my twin."

He said that as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and to him, it probably was. They were twins and that was all that mattered. Just five weeks ago, however, Harry _hadn't_ been a twin. He hadn't even been a brother. He'd been a cousin, a loathed one at that. Going from that to being a twin- he wasn't sure he was ready to take that leap or if Nathan wanted him to. He had noticed that Nathan seemed alright with them being friends, brothers maybe, but from what he'd seen with Fred and George, being a twin was more than just being brothers.

"You _are_ riled up. I can see that itty brain of yours rattling."

"Am I- Am I-"

"Are you what?" Fred asked gently.

"Do you think I'm a good brother?"

"Well, I mean you've been our brother for almost five years and we haven't disowned you yet."

Harry returned his grin. He'd always thought of the Weasleys as his family and had assumed they felt similarly about him but to hear one of them say it- it was a memory worth of a Patronus.

They went back to cleaning the cabinets after that. There were still questions Harry wanted to ask the older boy but those could wait, he decided. For now, he knew enough. It was alright for him to be worrying over Nathan. It was normal. He didn't need to feel bad for _not_ being strictly worried about Draco, at least not nearly to the same extent. After all, despite the many pranks Fred liked to play, Harry considered him a good older brother and if he cared about George the most- well, it was fine and that's all that mattered.

They finished their task less than an hour later and, upon Mrs Weasley's insistence, joined their twin brothers in the kitchen. It was far from spotless, as Mrs Weasley had ordered it to be, but neither George nor Nathan seemed particularly distressed by the state their designated area was in. They were both scrubbing a counter each at what Harry could only describe as leisurely pace, chatting among each other in soft voices. He imagined that he and Fred had looked scarily like their brothers did when they were talking instead of working, even though he and Nathan were hardly identical.

"…and within two days, we'd snitched it from Filch's office," George said, beaming at Nathan's laughter. "Filch never found out."

Nathan shook his head and grinned. "He did."

"What? How'd you know?"

"My Grandmum is Minerva McGonagall, remember? Filch always calls during the holidays after he completes his inventory and dictates her a list of things that've gone missing. She usually just pretends to listen and then forgets about it but I remember that she was really upset about this one," he glanced at the door and smiled at them. "Oh, hello, Harry! George was just telling me about-"

George clamped his hand over Nathan's mouth. "Has Mum sent you?"

"She said to help you," Fred walked around the counters and swiped his finger over them. "Tsk, tsk. This is simply unacceptable, Gred. Have I taught you nothing? What sort of example are you setting for our dear beloved ickle Blacksies?"

"One that teaches them to priorities, dear brother. Little Natey's image of us has been soiled by Minnie."

"Can't have that."

"Not at all."

For the rest of the day, the twins regaled them both with stories of their adventures both at the Burrow and Hogwarts. Some of them, Harry had already heard but others were completely new to him as well. One story that stuck with Harry especially was the one they called 'Spider-Peas'. Nathan had shuddered at the title, obviously not a very big fan of spiders himself and hadn't laughed at all when they got to the bit where they bewitched a six-year-old Ron's peas to turn into small spiders whenever he tried to eat them. They only stopped when Ron was in tears. Harry didn't like it very much either but he still thought he detected a small moral in it. Ron still loved his brothers, even though they pranked him quite viciously at times and even though he was often angry with them.

* * *

The sun had barely risen into the sky by the time Nathan trudged downstairs, his eyes still heavy and his mind drowsy. Sleep hadn't come easy the previous night. Draco, to Nathan's horror, had started snoring almost as soon as he fell asleep. Before, he had always fallen asleep quick enough to not fall victim to the noise but last night, it had kept him up until well after midnight. By the time he woke again, only six hours had passed at most and Draco was still fast asleep. Any other time, he would've tried to go back to sleep but the night had left him restless and frustrated and decidedly unable to sleep anymore. Not willing to listen to Draco's snoring for any longer, he had fled the room, still dressed in his pyjamas, and made his way into the kitchen. He hadn't expected anyone to be up already but when he stepped onto the main floor, the delicious smell of fizzling bacon assaulted him, causing his stomach to grumble excitedly. He loved bacon, like any self-respecting person, but his parents rarely let him have it and his godparents weren't much better.

He followed the smell into the kitchen, expecting to see Kreacher, Sirius' grumpy Elf, or Mrs Weasley there, and was barely able to hide his surprise at the sight of Mrs Malfoy standing in front of the stove.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning to you too," she smiled at him and pointed at a chair. "Sit down, the bacon will be ready soon."

He sat in the chair and fiddled with the glass of orange juice she placed in front of him. "I didn't know you cook."

"You wouldn't. I rarely have time to cook these days but with the trial coming up, I could hardly close my eyes."

The trial- he had completely forgotten about that. Almost a week had passed since they came to stay at Grimmauld Place. Thanks to the Malfoy name, Mrs Malfoy had easily gotten a court date to get the divorce and custody trial over with. There was no doubt that everything would go as planned but he could see why she would be too anxious to sleep.

"I didn't sleep much either," he said. "Draco snores."

She laughed and turned the fire down. "Yes, he got that from your father. I'll stop by the apothecary today. They have a wonderful potion that helps supress the snoring."

"Thanks. When will you leave?"

"At nine. I don't have to be there until ten but being early has never hurt anyone."

He lowered his head. "My…My Mum starts at eight-thirty."

"Which department is she in?"

"Child Welfare, since before I was born."

When he was little, she used to take him along every now and then. He loved these outings, almost as much as he loved going to work with his father. He liked the people and the attention they always paid him, the stories some of them told him and the things others showed him in the Ministry. He met many people there- when he was six, he'd been introduced to the Minister. He had been very kind to him and had even shown him his office and the big courtroom. In fact, Nathan had rather liked the man until he discovered the campaign he was leading against his brother.

"How about you write her a letter and I'll give it to her? I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

He smiled. "That'd be brilliant, thanks!"

"Of course," she smiled back at him and put a plate with bacon and eggs in front of him. "Now eat up."

The others were only just beginning to trickle in when he finished and excused himself to write the letter for his parents- he'd write to both of them so that his Mum could share his letter with his Dad when she got home in the evening.

"Morning!" He greeted giddily as he passed Harry on the stairs.

Harry tried to frown at his grin but yawned instead. "Why're you up already?"

"Couldn't sleep. Draco snores. Anyway, I gotta go. Mrs Malfoy made bacon, you should get some before Ron eats it all."

He gave another grin and continued his way upstairs.

* * *

The trial was over faster than she had expected. Fudge granted her both the divorce and her boys' custody without much talking, even though his reluctant tone and expression made his disdain at the situation more than obvious. He didn't have much of a choice, of course. Lucius was in Azkaban, he was in no position to fight, although she did doubt that he would've done anything to stop her otherwise. He loved her, she knew he did, and he would've known that the divorce would keep her and the boys safer than his name could hope to.

She found the Department for Child Welfare without any trouble. She had been there before, fourteen years ago. They, along with the Aurors, had been in charge of finding Eoin and Finian. It made sense, in a way, that neither boy had ever turned up, not with Finian's adoptive mother on the case- assuming the woman had been aware that the boy she raised as her own was in truth the missing Malfoy child.

"Excuse me," she stepped in front of the reception desk inside the department. "Where might I find Mrs Aria Longbottom?"

"Your name?"

"Mrs…Ms Narcissa Black."

The young girl, barely out of Hogwarts, glanced up at her before pointing at a desk close to the window front. A brown-haired woman sat at it. A roll of parchment was rolled out before her and the quill was poised to write but her hand didn't move. As she moved closer, she caught the detached look inside the brown eyes that looked eerily similar to the eyes she had seen on the pictures that depicted her youngest son before the glamour was taken off him.

"Aria Longbottom?"

"Yes?" The woman looked up, recoiling as their eyes met. "You."

"Yes. Me."

Her chair toppled over as she stood up. "What do you want? You've already taken my only son, what more can you possibly want?"

" _Your_ only son? He is _my_ son. I gave birth to him, I-"

"And I raised him," she snapped, her voice laced by pain. "I didn't know who he was. All I knew was that there was a baby boy who was all alone. A baby boy with no name, no home, and I took him into mine and I raised him as my son. You may have given birth to him and I'm sorry that you didn't get to see him grow up but I don't regret it. I love that boy and the fourteen years I was given with him were the best years of my life."

Narcissa took a step back and forced herself into a calmer state. Her anger and her hurt were getting the better of her. They were clouding her judgment. She knew, from what Aria had said and the very look in her eyes, that she loved Nathan. Her son had grown up loved and wanted and she ought to be grateful for that but she had to remember that she also ought to be sympathetic. Biological or not, Aria Longbottom had lost her child just as Narcissa had lost him and she was grieving his loss the way she had. She was a grieving mother whose only baby had been taken from her.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I realize this must be very hard for you and your husband. From everything I've seen and heard, I know that you love Nathan as your son and you must be hurting. I'm thankful that he found a loving home, even if that wasn't with us, but you have to understand that I can't give him back. I missed fourteen years of my baby's life and I can't bear to miss another."

Aria sniffed, tears watering her eyes. "I see. Is that all?"

"Almost," she fished the letter out of her robe and held it out. "Nathan asked me to give this to you. He misses you very much."

Aria's hand was shaking terribly as she reached for the parchment. She held it carefully, as though it was the most precious thing in the world.

"Can- can you tell him that we miss him too? And that we still love him just the same?"

"Of course."

"Maybe we can arrange for you to visit him, once he's at Hogwarts," she added. "I'm sure he'd love that. It's just not safe until then."

Aria smiled through her teary eyes. "Thank you. Take care of him, will you?"

"I promise. I'd give my life for any of my boys."

Without saying another word, she turned around and left the Ministry, a tear rolling down her cheek.

* * *

The 31st of July was a day Nathan wasn't particularly looking forward to. Everyone had decided that they'd celebrate his and Harry's birthday on that date, since it was actually the day they were born, but no one had bothered to ask him what he thought of that plan. For as long as he could remember, his family had celebrated his birthday on the 20th of August. The 20th was special, in a way. He identified with it, not unlike the way he identified with his name, and they had taken both of those things away from him without once stopping to consider how he'd feel with it. They just expected him to follow along, to be Finian Black, who celebrated his 14th birthday on July 31st together with his twin brother. He didn't want that. He didn't want any of it. He was fine with being a Malfoy. He could deal with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being his brothers and he figured he could live with the knowledge that his father was a Death Eater but this was where he drew the line. It was silly to get so worked up over a date but he didn't care.

On the morning of the 31st, he awoke earlier than usual. The moon was still in the sky, although he could already see the sun trying to break through at the horizon. Everyone in the house was still deep asleep, he determined as he wandered downstairs to have breakfast before anyone woke up. Most of them wouldn't even think about getting up until 7 at the very least- that left him with a good two or three hours to eat and find a corner to hole up in.

When he entered the kitchen, however, he found a figure sitting at the table already. Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and wanted fugitive, was cradling a cup of tea in his hands and staring at the table intently. His head snapped up at the creak of the floorboard.  
"Nathan?"

"Uh, morning," he mumbled, walking closer.

"What are you doing up already? If I remember right, you didn't go to bed until midnight last night."

 _Thanks to Ron and Harry._

"I- I just-"

Sirius snorted. "You're hoping to avoid the birthday party."

He frowned and sat down, mildly annoyed that the man had looked through him so easily. "How'd you know?"

"It wasn't too hard to see the disgust on your face when they decided on this."

"For them it was."

"They didn't care to see it," Sirius shrugged.

Raising an eyebrow, he leant back against the chair. "And you did?"

Sirius smiled at him sympathetically. "I know what it feels like being an outsider in this house. I bet I had that same look on my face plenty when I was your age, kiddo," he grimaced. "I'm old, aren't I?"

He perked up- Sirius had grown up in this house. No one knew it better than he did, not even Mrs Malfoy- who, he noted, insisted that he and Harry should call her Narcissa until they were comfortable with 'Mother'.

"Can you help me hide? I wanted to just sit in the darkest, tiniest corner of the library but I bet you know the best hiding places."

"I could," Sirius eyed him and shook his head slightly. "But I won't."

"What? Why not? I thought you said you understand!"

"I do but you don't. You haven't been an outsider until you made one of yourself, kiddo. Everyone's doing their best to include you, much more than they try to include Draco. Harry cares a great deal for you and my cousin Cissy might have flaws, her taste in men, for example, but she loves you with all her heart. So why don't you try putting your fear of abandonment aside for a while and stop pitying yourself?"

"I don't pity myself," he spluttered. "And I don't have a fear of abandonment!"

"Yeah, you do and it's affecting your life."

" _Who are you to judge the life I live?_ " He shot back. " _I know I'm not perfect and I don't live to be, but before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean._ "

"My first quote!" Sirius exclaimed, grinning. "You're such a drama queen, kiddo. Who's the quote from?"

"Bob Marley. He's a-"

"Muggle musician. I know."

"He's my Mum's favourite."

"Good choice," he nodded approvingly. "Anyway, the point is, you shouldn't hole up today. Let them celebrate you and fawn over you. Let Cissy stroke your hair and whatever she does to show you affection and just smile. It'll be just fine, I promise."  
Nathan shrugged in semi-agreement. He could see that Sirius wasn't quite happy with that answer but he was saved by Mrs Weasley, who bustled in at that moment, dishevelled but already energized.

"Oh!" She said. "You really are quite the morning person, Nathan."

He smiled at her. "It used to drive my dad crazy."

"Well, I'm glad for it. That way, you don't sleep through the day. No, you stay right where you are, young man," she ordered as he made to get up to help her. "You're the birthday boy! I'll fix you some bacon and fried eggs. That's your favourite isn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

"It's my pleasure," she smiled at him kindly. "Happy birthday."

"Yeah, Harry's brother," Sirius winked. "Happy birthday."

Later that day, when he was preparing to go up to bed, Nathan wandered over to Sirius once more.

"I forgot to ask earlier; why were you up so early?"

Sirius smiled at him sadly before gazing at Harry longingly. "Harry would've turned fifteen today."

* * *

By the end of the holidays, they still didn't know who would be replacing Dumbledore as Headmaster and Harry was growing more and more anxious by the day. Not even the Hogwarts letter, which had arrived unusually late that year, had given them so much as a clue about their school's future. In the spot where Dumbledore's name and titles had been before was now a simple, stamp-like logo that none of them even vaguely recognized.

He knew McGonagall and Snape were both in the Order but all they'd heard from them since the beginning of July was that Hogwarts was undergoing a drastic change, orchestrated by the Ministry, and that none of the teachers were allowed to tell anyone about those changes. Hermione had been quick to point out that the Ministry messing with Hogwarts, and presumably taking over as Head, didn't sound good at all, especially with the smear campaign it and the Daily Prophet were leading against him. They wouldn't hesitate to find an excuse to expel him as soon as they could- he couldn't even hide behind the Malfoy name as Draco always had. As long as Draco was underage, the Malfoys were close to non-existent with Lucius in Azkaban. They only held theoretical power, Hermione had explained. Their seat in the Wizengamot, the court, would be saved for Draco and the vaults would stay untouched as well but until his seventeenth birthday, he couldn't access any of it. No one would care if they expelled the Malfoy scion from Hogwarts.

He didn't think he'd be able to deal with expulsion. Having his wand snapped- it was a terrible thought. Especially after he had experienced a temporary loss of control of his magic after he exploded his room at the beginning of the summer. After that, and the time he set his blankets on fire, the warmth inside him that he recognized as his magic had slowly faded and it had been a horrible feeling. He had been incredibly relieved when it settled, just as Mrs Malfoy had said it would, and he couldn't imagine going without his magic his entire life. It wasn't possible. He couldn't go back to how it was before Hogwarts. He couldn't change it, though. The school year was approaching, fast. Maybe, just maybe, it'd be his last year but Harry wouldn't let them take his life away from him without a fight.

* * *

 **Pretty long chapter for my standards but I didn't feel the need to split this into two chapters. I know there is a lot more I could've written but to be honest, I don't think it's 100% necessary. I don't regret this chapter at all, I'm grateful for the review that prompted me to write this, but I feel like we're all ready to move on. Just because Summer is over doesn't mean you won't hear from it anymore. People reminisce and talk. It'll probably come up again.**

 **Anyhow, as this chapter hopefully proves, I do take your suggestions and wishes into consideration. So please, if there's anything you'd like to see, leave a review or DM me and I'll try to fit it in as long as it doesn't mess with the plot too much.**

 **I'd also like to know your opinion on the characterization and Nathan's character. Do you think they're too OOC? I'm trying my best to keep them in character as good as I can with the plot still functioning but I'd like to know what you think. I've also been trying to not turn Nathan into a Gary Stu and I hope I've been successful so far but again, your opinion would mean a lot to me.**

 **Cheers!  
**

 **Small timeline for the Summer holidays for orientation:**

 **June 6th - Beginning of the Summer Holidays (not sure if it's accurate but it fits my timeline best)**

 **June 16th - Severus and Lucius find out about Harry**

 **June 17th - Harry is brought to Malfoy Manor**

 **June 18th - Harry finds out about being Eoin Malfoy**

 **June 26th - Nationwide search for Finian / Nathan finds out about being Finian Malfoy**

 **June 27th - Attack on Malfoy Manor**

 **June 30th - Draco's belated birthday party**

 **July 4th - Grimmauld Place**

 **July 6th - Fred and Harry**

 **July 12th - The trial / Nathan and Narcissa / Narcissa and Aria**

 **July 31st - Nathan and Sirius**

 **August happened**

 **September 1st - Back to Hogwarts**


	19. And As Brothers

The morning of September 1st saw Draco up before dawn broke. Finally, at long last, he was going to leave this horrible summer behind, even if the consequences would still be plain obvious to even such dull minds as Crabbe and Goyle. Upon his return, he would be confronted with more changes, he knew that. His rank within Slytherin was almost certainly lost. The Blacks, although a very powerful family in their golden days, had long ago lost their influence with Walburga Black's death almost eight years ago and the Malfoys had fallen from grace during the holidays, time and time again. Longbottom had told him that Father had simply jump started their fall but Draco knew that, had Potter and he never been found, his family would've risen in station once the Dark Lord made his appearance.

They couldn't do that anymore. The Dark Lord wouldn't welcome them back, even if they came crawling on all fours like ruddy Mudbloods. Mother, by choosing Potter and Longbottom over Father, had clearly made her alliance with Dumbledore's little club known and Draco, subsequently, had made his own known by not appealing the Wizengamot's decree to give Mother sole custody of him and the other two. That alone would change the way his fellow Snakes looked at him.

He could gain their respect back, though. It would be easy enough. Malfoy or Black, he was still the smartest of them all. His ambition surpassed theirs easily and their cunning was not even close to being a match to his. This would only go to prove it to them.

He pulled the rotten curtains open, ignoring Longbottom's groan. After today, he would never share a room with him again and even that was too soon. Longbottom was a sodden roommate and Draco was positively sick of his company. Of course, Crabbe and Goyle didn't offer the same sort of mental stimulation Longbottom did with his constant arguing over trivial things such as the station of Mudbloods, but they always agreed with him no matter what and, truth be told, he rather enjoyed it. They acknowledged that he was their superior without question- which might have been because they were too simple-minded to put any thought behind their actions but that was just being finicky. All that mattered was that neither the Weasleys nor the new Black twins accepted his authority and demanded to wield it over _him_ instead.

They didn't control him. With Father imprisoned by Longbottom's tramp of a cousin, he was in charge of House Malfoy as Heir Apparent. He had more power than any of them could ever hope to have and one day, when he didn't need them anymore, he'd show them. For now, he needed them to think he was on their side, however. They would see him through the war, would see to it that he stood on the side of victory when it all ended and after that, they would find out what it meant to mess with Draco _Malfoy_.

He pulled his trunk up on his bed. He knew the Blood Traitors and their cohorts were planning on packing everything last minute but he wouldn't stoop to such a level. His trunk had been packed and ready for days, as it ought to be, and all he had to add now was his pajama and a few books he had picked up in the Black library the night before.

He glanced up as Longbottom rolled onto his other side with another groan, blinking his eyes open. Draco sneered at the sight of him. Unfortunately, both he and Potter had the distinct aristocratic features a Malfoy ought to have. At school, no one would doubt their blood relation- they looked too much alike. Unlike him, however, they had a few features easily identified as coming from the Black side of the family. Their eyes were much more like his mother's and although he was above such petty things as jealousy, he couldn't help but be put out by it. They had caused his mother so much heartache, first by being taken on the day of their birth and, once they'd been found, by not accepting her as their mother even though she was so much better than what they had before. Truly, all Potter used to have was a Muggle aunt- _anything_ would be preferable to that. Longbottom's mother was a Halfblood and though that was hardly as bad as Potter's living situation, it was far from ideal. Had he been able to remember their birth or had he known about them growing up, he might've been upset for him- no brother of his deserved to grow up like that- but Draco just couldn't see them as his brother. They were bloody _Potter_ and another Longbottom fool- as if one of those wasn't enough.

"What're you doing?" Longbottom muttered.

"Packing."

He frowned, squinting his eyes funnily. "I thought you'd done that yesterday."

"Not my books. Now, do you mind?"

Longbottom sat up and raised his hands in defeat. "Fine," he got out of bed, not even bothering to change out of his obnoxiously coloured pyjamas before crossing to the door. "I'm gonna go and grab a bite to eat. Want something?"

The biting reply nearly escaped his mouth before he remembered the mass of redheads that would crowd the dining room before long. They were always too loud, shouting across the entire room, throwing things over his head and being generally annoying. If he could in any way avoid it, he wouldn't put up with them any longer than he absolutely had to.

"An apple and a cup of tea will do," he looked up again uncertainly when Longbottom didn't move. The younger boy stared at him expectantly. "What?"

"What's the magic word?"

"What?"

Longbottom sighed. "If you ask someone to do something for you, you say please and thank you."

"You offered to bring me breakfast."

"It's still considered good manners to say please and thank you. You can't go around being a brat with other people, they won't take you seriously."

"Well, good thing we're brothers then," he jeered sarcastically.

Longbottom rolled his eyes, muttered something and closed the door behind himself quietly after finally leaving the room. Draco smiled at the quiet that immediately swallowed the room. Draco had known right away that them having a room on the third floor was quite possibly the best thing about staying at Grimmauld Place. The only entry to the two-storey library was located right beside their door, which was very convenient when it came to late night reading sessions. The Black Library held many books he had been eying for a long time but had never managed to get his hands on before- he wasn't about to pass this chance.

Besides that, the only people he and Longbottom shared the floor with were the Weasley parents, the mutt, the wolf and his own mother. Despite the wolf's violent nature and the mutt's childish attitude, they did know how to keep quiet at night. All four Weasley brats were on the second floor, along with Granger and Potter, and Draco could only imagine the noise that must've disrupted the night at all times. No doubt the twins were constantly blowing things up. He had only caught one of their explosions, shortly after his makeshift birthday party, which had been a debacle in its very own right. They always celebrated his birthday toward the end of June, due to the inconvenience of him still being at school on his actual birthday, and he was generally fine with it but this year, it had been absolutely horrible. Had it just been his mother and his 'brothers' he might've been able to enjoy it a tiny bit at least but with all those Blood Traitors running around- it was terrible.

"I met your mother on my way down," Longbottom threw the door open and grabbed his clothes from the chair next to his bed. "She said to come down for breakfast and to stop being a wuss."

He rolled his eyes. "No, she didn't."

"Fine, I made the breakfast part up," Longbottom grinned at him in that insufferable way that always made Mother smile. "She told me to tell you that she wants us to have breakfast together one last time before we leave."

"Tell her I'll be down soon."

* * *

They arrived at King's Cross Station at half past ten. Most compartments were filled already but Draco had no troubles finding Crabbe and Goyle. They had secured a compartment near the front of the train, closest to the entry because they were too lazy to walk any further than that. He pushed the door open and strolled inside, pulling his trunk along, and nodded at the two of them. "Crabbe, Goyle."

"Malfoy," Goyle grinned viciously. "Oh, wait, it's not Malfoy anymore, is it?"

"That's right," Crabbe nodded. "I heard it's Draco _Black_ now."

He stepped back as they stood up and tried to glare them down. They were a lot taller than him and both of them were much more brawns than brains and apparently immune to his best glare.

"Want to know what else I heard, _Black_?"

"Of course," he jeered. "You know I always love to hear your fascinating tales, Goyle."

"I heard," he continued, paying to heed to him. "that your mother chose _Potter_ over the Dark Lord."

Crabbe cracked his knuckles. "He is very angry with you, Black. You and your whore mother."

He jumped forward, ready to bash their heads in with his bare hands when a hand caught him by his shirt and pulled him back. He whirled around but stopped short at the sight of the Longbottom cousins, Potter and the Weasley girl standing behind him. Longbottom- the younger- still had his shirt grasped in his hand but his eyes were fixed on Crabbe and Goyle. Potter was glaring at them as well as he pushed past Weasley and into the compartment together with his twin. Their glares, interestingly, were identical even though their features weren't and Draco thought they looked oddly similar to him when he glared.

"Aw, you brought your ickle baby brothers, how cute! Your whore mother must-"

Nathan's hand collided violently with Crabbe's nose with a nasty cracking sound that signalled the breaking of his bones. Potter immediately pulled Nathan back and raised his wand to keep Crabbe and Goyle at bay. Draco grinned- normally, he wouldn't approve of dirty Muggle fighting but this time, he decided he'd let it slide.

"One more step and you'll wish I'd have let my brother have another go at you," Goyle made to move forward but stopped as Potter poked him with his wand. "I mean it."

Goyle sneered. "What, you need to be protected by Potter and a Longbottom now?"

"Listen up," Potter interrupted. "I don't care if you insult us. We can take it. The second you insult _our mother_ , you'll have to answer to all three of us. Is that clear?"

When neither of them answered, Draco pulled his own wand out as well and poked Crabbe's broken nose for good measure. "I believe my brother asked you a question."

"Yes," they muttered.

"What was that?"

"We get it, _Black_ ," Goyle said.

"Good," they tucked their wands away and backed out into the hallway. Soon, they reached the end of the train without finding an empty compartment. They slowed down and looked at each other awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks," he finally said.

Potter shrugged. "No problem. She's our mother as well, after all."

"Yes. I guess so."

"If you're done," Weasley said, pointing toward the compartment that only held a blonde girl. "It's only Loony Lovegood in there, she's alright."

"Yeah, alright," Nathan turned to him. "Do you want to sit with us?"

"Sure."

Maybe for now, it'd be better to be nice to them. If Crabbe and Goyle had united against him, he could only assume that the other Slytherins would follow suit, if they hadn't already. He couldn't go completely alone, he needed some sort of allies. If those allies just so happened to be Potter and Longbottom, then it was still better than no allies. It would certainly make Mother happy to see them be civil with each other. For now, they were the only option he had and he sure wasn't about to throw that away.

* * *

 **There we go, they've finally boarded the Hogwarts Express. Only took me eighteen chapters.**

 **Originally, this chapter was going to be written from Harry's POV but then I figured that his day went much the same as in the book (except for obvious aversions) and I felt you guys needed to see Draco's inner workings for a change. I didn't want you guys to go into Hogwarts thinking Draco had magically changed into a good guy and was totally accepting of Harry and Nathan, even if it might appear so. He's a Slytherin. He's trying to do what's best for himself and he's being cunning about it.  
**

 **I'd be eternally grateful for a review. Seriously, only one review for Chapter 18? You guys can do better. I don't even mind if it's just a few words but it really would be nice if you could take those few seconds to leave a quick review behind. It's the only "pay" I'll ever get for this story, after all.  
**


	20. United We Return

They arrived at Hogsmeade Station long after the sun set behind the wide landscape and Harry was more than ready to finally escape the compartment. Everyone had been quite pleasant, even Draco, but that girl, Luna Lovegood, made him uncomfortable with her stares. She didn't even seem to notice. Onesecond, she'd be staring at him, her eyes hazy, and the next, she'd snap out of it and participate in whatever conversation the others were having. It was unnerving, no matter whether she meant anything with her staring or not.

They stood up, fixed their rumpled clothing and moved to push the door open when a loud voice made them recoil. In a monotone yet demanding way, the words "Attention all students" were repeated over and over, far longer than Harry thought necessary. He didn't think he recognized the voice. It didn't sound at all like the one that always announced their arrival at Hogsmeade Station.

Finally, the repetition stopped and another voice came on. He didn't know this one either but instantly decided that he didn't like it. It was a female voice, very high pitched and too sweet to be natural.

"Good evening, dear students," the woman said so pleasantly that Harry found it unpleasant. "By decree of the Ministry of Magic, the use of Thestral-pulled carriages on Hogwarts grounds has been outlawed. You will therefore be required to walk to the castle by foot. Fifth Year Prefects are instructed to lead the First Years and the Fourth Year known as Finian Black to Professor McGonagall's office for their Sorting. All other students are required to report to the Great Hall in thirty minutes. Thank you."

They stared at each other in silence, stunned. Never before had they been greeted in such a manner- Harry shuddered at the mere thought of walking all the way up to the castle in just thirty minutes. He could do it in less if he used his broom but on foot, they'd all have to hurry if they wanted to be at least close to punctual.

"We'd better get going then," Ginny said, pushing past Draco into the hallway. "Or else their stupid new rule will make us late for the feat. Assuming they haven't outlawed that either."

Draco nodded. "What are Thestrals anyway? I've never heard of them and I've certainly never seen anything pull the carriages."

"You wouldn't see them," Luna said dreamily. "Only those who have seen death can see them. I've always seen them."

No one spoke until Nathan awkwardly reached out to pat Luna's shoulder even though she didn't seem at all fazed by the fact that she'd seen death before- Harry wondered why he hadn't seen the Thestrals before if what she said was true. He'd first seen it when he was fifteen- no, three months old when Voldemort killed his parents. He even remembered it, which he thought was quite astonishing considering he wasn't even able to wipe his own spit at the time. He'd seen it again when Quirrell died at the end of his First Year, at Harry's hand no less. And Fourth Year…if Thestrals were real, this would've been the year he would've seen them for sure.

As soon as they stepped out of the train, they were met by the next change. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a close knitted line of men dressed in blue robes stood opposite the train. Their faces were emotionless and their postures stiff and they didn't react at all to the students' confused murmur. They were a bit like the guards Harry had seen when they visited Buckingham Palace in second grade.

"Those weren't always there, were they?"

He shook his head. "No. They weren't."

They caught up with Ron and Hermione at the spot where the carriages used to wait. Hermione was ranting, flailing her arms as she explained to Ron, probably in detail, exactly why the changes they'd seen so far didn't bode well for them.

"Look, there's Harry and the others," Ron muttered, his shoulders slumping in relief when Hermione immediately turned away from him.

"Harry!" She exclaimed. "Thank Merlin! You haven't done anything stupid, have you? Someone said you punched Goyle-"

"That wasn't me," he said. "Nathan punched Crabbe."

Ginny nodded and grinned. "The oaf deserved it though. He was talking about things he didn't understand."

Hermione huffed and frowned at Nathan. "Still. You shouldn't go around punching people, especially on your first day. We don't know who's in charge yet, they could be anyone. We need to be careful."

None of them argued with that. They knew that Hogwarts wouldn't be the same- that had been proven already. Together, they started the march towards the castle. The growling of Ron's stomach started was joined by his complaints shortly into their walk and it wasn't too long until Draco started to whine. Harry was sure that, had he not been in Azkaban, he'd have already threatened to tell his father. As it was, he was restraining himself to cursing whoever had made these changes and called them rather ugly names. Besides that, the walk was oddly quiet. Luna and Ginny had split off early on to walk ahead of them and Nathan and Neville had let themselves fall back. Harry assumed they were using this time to catch up after a long summer apart- from what he'd heard from his brother, the two of them used to spend plenty of time together, even after Neville started at Hogwarts. Three months must've been akin to ages for them.

"Why do you think they didn't send Hagrid to take care of the First Years?"

"Because he's a brute," Draco snorted. "He shouldn't be allowed around children."

Ron glared at him. "Shut up, Malfoy. No one asked you."

Despite spending almost two months together, Ron and Draco had never even begun to warm up to each other. Hermione at least pretended to not be bothered by the blonde's presence but Ron went out of his way to make sure Draco knew he wasn't welcome. More than once, Harry had asked him to at least try but his pleas had been ignored just as often. Draco wasn't any better, however, and went to the same lengths to inform Ron and the other Weasleys of his opinion of them. Over time, they started being very sly about their comments, as neither Mrs Weasley nor Mrs Malfoy – Ms Black? Narcissa. – welcomed the amnesty between their sons now that they were connected through him.

"Granger didn't address anyone," Draco replied. "Of course, I don't expect someone as simple as you to understand the implication behind that…"

"Someone as simple as me? We'll see how simple you'll be after-"

"I just hope they haven't fired him," Hermione said as she glared at Ron.

Harry frowned. "I'm sure he's fine. Someone would've told us if they'd fired him."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Who? We haven't heard anything from anyone."

"Oh. Right."

He really hoped that Hagrid hadn't been fired. He might've been not very good as a teacher but Harry liked him. Hagrid was friendly and was always happy to just see him. He was one of the few people who liked him for _him_ and not for his fame- not to mention that Hagrid was the one who had introduced him to the Wizarding World.

As they neared the castle, he could feel the tension radiate off the crowd around him. The chatter abruptly broke down into anxious muttering when the Fifth Year prefects broke off and started gathering the First Years. Hermione grabbed Nathan, who barely had enough time to wave them goodbye, and picked out any First Year she could find. Draco scowled after them. Harry knew he'd been sure he'd make Prefect, possibly because Snape was his godfather, and had been very upset when he hadn't found a badge in his letter.

Ginny, Luna and Neville rejoined them on their way to the Great Hall. They too were exchanging theories over the upcoming changes- Ginny was, anyway. Luna seemed to have drifted off into a dream and Neville was obviously fretting more than he was contemplating. He wasn't sure what to expect- he only hoped that it wouldn't be as bad as everyone made it out to be. Yet, he got the feeling it would be quite a horrible year as soon as they entered the Great Hall. It hadn't changed much but still looked drastically different. There were no candles floating about, no friendly ghosts ready to welcome them back and no smiling professors at the staff table. For the most part, the Hall was plunged in semi-darkness, lighted only by torches that had been put up a few feet apart from each other. Up on the stage, Harry could only spot grim faces that almost put Snape's to shame. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen and neither were McGonagall and Flitwick. The seat that was usually occupied by Dumbledore was now sat upon by a woman, some hundred years younger and a few feet smaller than the previous Headmaster, and her sense of fashion, if possible, even worse. Her entire outfit consisted of different shades of pink and on her mousy-coloured hair, she wore an unflattering pink hat that made her look distinctly like a toad. Beside him, Ginny snickered at the sight of her.

" _That's_ the new Headmistress? She looks like a toad!"

Harry grinned and nodded. They parted from Draco and sat down near Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. He didn't know how much time was still left before they hit the thirty minute mark but most of the students seemed to have arrived already. The tables were quickly filling up, besides the seats that were always left empty for the new First Years. Across the hall, Draco had chosen the seat closest to the door. Pansy Parkinson was glaring daggers at him and none of his usual goons was anywhere near him. Instead, he was seated with Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott, who were both Fifth Years as well. He didn't look as carefree as he previously had, before he was Draco Black, but Harry didn't think he was particularly tense either.

"It's weird," Ginny said. He turned to meet her eyes but found her staring at Draco as well. "You being Malfoy's brother, I mean."

He rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it."

"When Ron came home that day, he told us what you'd said. We couldn't believe it."

He couldn't believe it either and he thought he'd made that quite clear when he blew up his bedroom. He still couldn't really believe it, even if he had moved past the denial stage.

"Hem, hem."

Everyone stopped mid-sentence to stare at the Headmistress, who had quietly moved to stand where Professor McGonagall usually stood. Harry raised his eyebrow at Ginny, who simply shrugged.

"Hem, hem," she repeated again, her voice just as unnaturally sweet and repulsive as her smile. "I welcome you all back to Hogwarts. It's so very nice to see all your happy faces smiling up at me!" A quick glance around told him that the only ones even close to smiling were Fred and George, who stared at the woman with smug grins. "Now, as all of have surely heard, your former Headmaster, one Albus Dumbledore, has been charged with a variety of crimes that, sadly, prevent him from returning to his position ever again. But no need to worry, I'm sure we will all be very, very good friends very soon.

"I am Headmistress Dolores Umbridge. I was personally assigned by our very own Minister to ensure that you receive the best education possible. The Ministry has always cared greatly for the education of young witches and wizards and now that Professor Dumbledore has shown his true face, the good Minister fortunately believes it is time to take matters into his own hands. Now, I understand that it will be difficult for you to adjust to the changes that have taken place but I have no doubt you will find them most useful," she paused and glanced around the hall. "After long discussions, the Board and the Ministry have decided to rearrange the House System."

An outraged cry went through the crowd. All around him, students were angrily shouting at Umbridge. Not a single table was exempted- over at the Slytherin table, he could see students protesting just as fiercely as anyone else.

"Hem, hem. I am sure you will find that this is for the best if you calm down and let me explain," a reluctant silence settled over them. She smiled at them patronizingly. "The Minister and I agree that the amnesty between four houses is very unhealthy for you. We don't want you to live in such a bad environment. We have agreed on separating you into _two_ houses instead. Now, no need to worry. You will not be separated from your friends. For the sake of tradition, the original houses will stay intact."

She held a long, mind-numbingly boring speech that Harry had trouble following before she finally announced the new arrangement. Two of the existing houses would be put together to form a new one- Harry, his fellow Gryffindors and the entirety of Hufflepuff sighed in relief when they learnt that they'd be put together and wouldn't have to share a house with Slytherin. It was supposed to encourage friendship but he wasn't sure if he really bought that. The rivalry would just be carried over, he was certain of that.

"I'm sure you're all very excited to find out what your new houses will be called," she folded her hands behind her back. "The Minister and I put a lot of thought behind these new names and I assure you, they are splendid."

She clapped her hands- not a proper clap. It was the sort of clap Aunt Petunia did. It was just meant to look pretty, even if it looked ridiculous and made hardly any noise at all. Whoever it was meant for seemed to get the message however and within a heartbeat, two banners rolled of the ceiling and stopped just before their tips touched the staff table. At first glance, Harry didn't think they looked too different from Ravenclaw and Slytherin. One was a rich blue whilst the other was a deep green but instead of silver and bronze accents, it was just those base colours. A fancy sword was stitched onto the blue one, akin to the Sword of Gryffindor that Harry had pulled from the Sorting Hat three years ago but not quite the same. Above it, in curved, golden writing, was a single word; _Pendragon_.

The green banner was equally as minimalistic. A single, light-coloured wooden stick was displayed underneath the bronze words _Myrddin Emrys_ that looked like a weird cross between a walking stick and a wand.

"Myrddin Emrys!" Ginny whispered. "That's Merlin's real name!"

"Yes, they're quite nice, aren't they? The Minister selected them personally," Umbridge puffed her chest, obviously very pleased. "Myrddin Emrys will house the former Ravenclaws and Slytherins and will be led by Professor Snape. Pendragon will be home to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff under Professor-," the large double doors swung open. Professor McGonagall strode in, followed by the new First Years and the prefects. Nathan, who walked almost beside his grandmother, wore the crest of Ravenclaw beneath that of Myrddin Emrys.

He grinned. "Nathan's in Ravenclaw," he told Ginny. "I knew it."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Everyone knew it."

"Not Ron."

"That's because Ron knows nothing."

Ron had been absolutely sure that Nathan was destined for Gryffindor. No one else had seen what Ron saw though- sure, Nathan was probably very brave but he wasn't reckless. He didn't like adventures and he liked to think things through instead of rushing into them. It'd be far more likely to find Nathan lost in a book or asking questions Harry hadn't ever thought of asking.

Nathan found a seat next to Luna Lovegood, who seemed to have saved him a seat if the open seat beside her was anything to go by. He wasn't sure how Luna had known that his brother would be sorted into Ravenclaw, having only just met him, but it was good that Nathan had a friend already. He knew how awful it was to not have friends and even if Luna was a bit weird, she'd at least be a reasonably good friend to Nathan.

"Nathan's a Ravenclaw!" Hermione announced quietly.

Ron sat down, looking a bit miffed. "I still think it wasn't as clear as you think. The Hat took almost three minutes with him."

"That doesn't matter," Ginny said, grinning smugly. "You still owe me two galleons."

Ron huffed and turned away. Up front, McGonagall was walking towards Umbridge, who had folded her hands in front of her and was smiling at her pleasantly. The closer she came, Harry noticed, the slower McGonagall walked until she stopped entirely, just below the stage.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dolores," she said although her voice implied she wasn't sorry at all. "Have I interrupted your speech?"

Umbridge's smile fell for just a second before it returned wider than before.

"Not at all. I was just telling the children what their new Houses are called and that you are Pendragon's Head of House."

"Oh, yes. The _children_ will certainly find that very interesting. No doubt."

McGonagall continued her walk to the staff table, taking the path that took her farthest from Umbridge, and sat down besides Snape.

For a second, everyone was quiet before Umbridge coughed and unfolded her hands only to immediately refold them again. "Yes, well. I suppose you're all very hungry. Now that everyone knows their house, it's time to start the feast. When you're done, please stay seated and wait until your name is called."

The feast appeared before them, unchanged to the years before, much to Harry's relief. Ron immediately dug in, before anyone else even had the chance to try to choose between the many platters. As Harry started piling potatoes on his plate, Hermione stayed still.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Ron asked through a mouthful of pasta, ignoring the glare Hermione sent him.

"This isn't good."

"What, the food? It's-"

"Not the food, Ronald!" She snapped. "Professor Umbridge and this nonsense with the new Houses."

Harry shrugged. "I don't really see the point."

"There's none. At least none that would be beneficial for us. I'm not sure what's in it for her but there must be something. She can't honestly expect us to just forget the rivalry we've had before. It doesn't matter if our houses are bigger and have different names. They'll still hate each other. That can't be her goal."

"Did you see the way Professor McGonagall looked at her?" Neville asked. "I don't think she liked Professor Umbridge very much."

Harry had gotten the same feeling- all the more reason not to trust Umbridge. He trusted McGonagall's judgment, even if she'd known about his kidnapping all along. She just wanted to protect Nathan, he was sure of that, and he wasn't about to hold that against her.

Hermione shook her head. "She doesn't. Harry, she said to be careful. She told me to tell you."

Once the feast was over and done with and everyone was ready to sink into their beds with full stomachs and droopy eyelids, McGonagall and Snape stood up from their seats and moved to stand in front of their two respective tables.

"According to... _Headmistress_ Umbridge's new…rules," she began. "All of you have been assigned a new dorm. When I call your name, come forward and I will tell you in whether you will be sleeping in the Hufflepuff or Gryffindor dorms. There, you will find lists on the doors that will help you find your room."

As she started listing names in alphabetical order, Harry's stomach sunk and nausea set in- not because of the food but by what he knew was about to happen. So far, it seemed as though the new dorms would consist of an equal mix of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and he had a bad feeling that he wouldn't like his new placement.

"Hermione Granger, Gryffindor."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione smiled slightly. "Not that I hate the thought of staying in Hufflepuff but I do like the Gryffindor dorms."

Hermione didn't leave like the rest of the students, instead opting to stay with them until they found out where they were going to live for this year. Neville had turned distinctly green when he was put in Hufflepuff. Despite never believing he fit in Gryffindor, Harry knew he was awfully proud of his Sorting. To have that taken away from him, in a way, must've felt terrible.

"Eoin Malfoy, Hufflepuff."

He groaned, absently noting that McGonagall had called him by the wrong name. He'd sort of expected it but it was still disappointing that he wouldn't be in Gryffindor with Hermione- and if Ron went back to Gryffindor as well, he'd be all alone with only Neville.

The Weasleys, as always, came dead last.

"Frederick Weasley, Gryffindor."

George and Fred started their small celebration but stopped short when McGonagall continued, almost hesitatingly. "George Weasley, Hufflepuff."

"What?" Fred exclaimed as Ginny was sent back to Gryffindor. "They've-"

"Separated us!"

"Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor."

"We've never been-"

"Separated!"

The twins stared at each other in shock as though they could hardly believe this was happening. Harry found himself agreeing- for as long as he'd known them, they were basically inseparable. The very thought of them not sharing a dorm for a whole year was almost ridiculous.

Then again, he and Ron used to be close to inseparable as well and now here they were. Put into different dorms like Fred and George.

"There's a pattern to it," Hermione concluded once the twins had somewhat calmed down. "They've separated established groups- us three, Seamus and Dean, Fred and George. And that's only a few."

"What, do you think they've got something planned?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes. I just don't know what and why they're doing this."

"Well," Ron said after an awkward silence. "I know this is bloody stupid and all but I think we should talk about it some other time. I'm tired and the tower's up all those bloody stairs."

They agreed the meet up in the morning and, at the staircase, separated. George and he stood at the base of the staircase for a while and Harry thought he could feel the way George longed to follow his twin brother up those familiar stairs into the tower that had been his home for six years. Instead, he was the first to break from his trance and pulled Harry along to the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

* * *

 **Right, I'm incredibly anxious about this chapter and your reaction to it. When I played with the thought of introducing these rather drastic changes, I was seriously questioning whether they would serve any purpose. In the end, I decided that yes, they would serve a purpose. As you might know, the _Harry Potter_ books translate Muggle issues into issues of the Wizarding world, i.e. the parallel between White supremacy and Pureblood supremacy. I always loved that component of the books and I want to keep with that theme. That is why I invented Myrddin Emrys and Pendragon. What exactly they're meant to represent might become clearer in the next chapters. Let me know if you can't figure it out and I'll tell you. It's important to understand my intention behind this, otherwise it won't make sense and if it doesn't make sense, it won't serve a greater purpose.  
**

 **That said, the names and crests of the two new houses are very important as well. As Ginny pointed out, Myrddin Emrys is the real name of the great sorcerer Merlin (Merlin Ambrosius is the english translation to the Welsh original). The stick on the banner is a staff, which, for the purpose of the story, is what people used before they had wands.**

 **Pendragon is the last name of King Arthur of Albion and the sword, naturally, is Excalibur. As you might know, Merlin was Arthur's mentor of sorts. It's important to note that King Arthur was a Muggle. Maybe that'll help you figure this out a bit.**

 **Something else that left me a bit uncertain was you guys. I want you to enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying it so I do try to keep in mind what it feels like to be the reader. When I wrote this particular chapter, I was incredibly conscious of the fact that you might think Umbridge's changes are too extreme and totally senseless. In the end, I decided to go for it because I really liked the idea and, even though I want you to enjoy it, it's still my story.**

 **Probably just taking the worry too far again, though. It'd probably be best if you don't pay too much heed to this A/N in hindsight but whatever.**

 **Questions:**

 **Will we still see Narcissa? Absolutely. I love her character, I won't just cross her out because her sons are at school. She does have a life outside the boys, after all, and there's much to be done. She started to mend her relationship with Andy and Sirius but she's far from done. There's also Aria Longbottom, whom she has recently met, and, of course, her ex-husband Lucius.**

 **In regards to Lucius, yes, we'll see him again. He's still got a journey before him and I'll definitely take you on that journey.  
At some point, we will also explore how and why they made certain decisions concerning the twins. I know some of the stuff they've done so far doesn't make sense but I ask you to be patient. I may be making this up as I go (oops) but there is a point behind what I write.  
**

 **Also: So many reviews! Thanks! I really enjoyed every single one of them. Keep it up, I'd appreciate it loads.**


	21. To Our Roots

It felt just like back in Gryffindor Tower when Harry found himself drifting into awareness the next morning. He heard Neville's soft breaths, low, almost unnoticeable snoring from the bed beside him and the sound of someone mumbling under their breath. The bathroom that was connected to their dorm was in use. It was all so familiar that for just a moment, he forgot that he no longer slept in Gryffindor. He rolled over onto his back with a content sigh and blinked his eyes open. Instead of the customary crimson he was used to seeing first thing in the morning, his eyes were assaulted by a strong yellow, reminiscent of the sun. The memories returned at once and so did the realisation that he no longer slept in Gryffindor Tower and that the snoring simply couldn't be Ron's. It was too subtle, he realized as he listened closely, and the mumbling was not nearly Irish enough to be Seamus'.

He grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and shoved them onto his face. His new dorm was set up quite differently. It wasn't a circular shape as his old one had been but a simple rectangle. Harry's bed was farthest away from the door and closest to the bathroom. The walls were painted a more muted yellow that he didn't find too radiating too look at and the furniture was a light wood Neville had identified as burke. They still slept in four-poster beds that were just as comfy and they each had a nightstand for themselves. A fireplace was placed at the wall opposite their beds, leaving them with just enough room to walk past it and Dean Thomas' bed. A single desk and two chairs stood in a niche beside the bathroom door together with a small bookshelf.

With a sigh, he stood up, grabbed his robes from the foot of his bed and walked into the bathroom. By the time he returned to the dorm, Neville had woken up and Dean was stuffing as many books as he could into his satchel bag.

"Morning," he said.

Dean startled and turned around. "Blimey, Harry," he said. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that new voice of yours- or your new look."

He shrugged. "Give it a few days."

"Did you?"

"What?"

"Get used to it," Dean clarified, sitting down on his bed. "I mean, you're the last person I'd expected to be a Malfoy."

"Technically, I'm a Black now," he said. "Mrs M- My mother, she divorced Malfoy this summer. And yeah, I think I got used to it. It's a bit weird still but not as much as in the beginning, I guess."

He'd have to see McGonagall about the name business as well- during the announcement on the train, they'd called his brother Black, so they must've received their mother's letter regarding their name change. He'd choose Eoin Black over Eoin Malfoy any day.

He hesitated. "So, uh, do you, like, want us to call you Eoin now?" Harry grimaced at the butchered version of his name.

"Uh, no, Harry's fine. And it's actually pronounced like Owen. I dunno why they spelt it like that, I never asked."

Looking back on it, he probably should've asked at some point. He really didn't care much for the name but it was _his_ , after all, the only name that was truly meant for him. _Harry_ had been named after his grandfather, Henry Potter, according to the tales Professor McGonagall had conveyed to his brother, and had Harry found out about this connection earlier, he would've been ecstatic. As it was, however, he still didn't know where his name came from. Lily and James had named their son after James' father and he had simply taken it over.

Still, Harry mightn't have been meant for him but he liked that name. He'd grown up with it and he really couldn't imagine dropping it anytime soon.

After promising Neville he'd wait for him in the common room, Harry draped his book bag over his shoulder and left the dorm. He didn't fancy being in there still when Ernie and Justin woke up. He didn't know either of them very well but he could vividly remember Ernie supporting every rumour that was being spread about him and the night before, both of them had seemed rather vary of his presence in the Hufflepuff dorms.

"Morning, Harry," George fell down onto the couch besides him. "You know, I don't approve of these folks' colour choices but they've got the best couches."  
It really was a really comfy couch. They had more than Gryffindor Tower too. Enough to seat all of them, probably.

"My dorm, though, let me tell you, it'll probably burn my eyes out by the end of the year. So yellow!"

"Yeah, who would've guessed Hufflepuff would be so yellow."

George grinned and wiggled a finger in Harry's face. "Don't get smart with me, Harrikins. I bet you didn't expect the sun to shine from the walls either."

He made to retort when the portrait guarding the common room swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall, as stern and firm as ever. The old professor looked around the room solemnly and finally settled her piercing gaze on Harry.

"Mr Black, a word?"

"Uh, of course," he stood up and was almost out of the door before he remembered why he'd been in the common room in the first place. He turned back around to where George was still sitting. "I told Neville I'd wait up for him."

George nodded. "I'll tell him where you've gone."

He shot him a quick grin before hurrying to follow the impatient professor.

McGonagall didn't speak another word as she led him through the castle up to her office at a brisk pace. For some odd reason, he was comforted by her behaviour- this was how it usually went down when she needed to talk to him. She hadn't changed and, Merlin, was he glad for it.

Even though she didn't seem to have changed, Harry couldn't help but feel that he was still seeing her differently. When he'd last talked to her, he hadn't been aware of her family. He hadn't known that she had a daughter and a son-in-law and a grandson that she loved. His parentage had still been a secret, one that she was about to reveal to the whole world.

Her office had changed. Whereas it had been rather bare and impersonal before, the walls and the desk were now decorated with a variety of pictures. He'd seen enough photos of Nathan and his family to recognize the brown-haired boy that appeared in almost every frame and for the first time, the reality of their new connection sunk in. Nathan, his little brother, was his Transfiguration Professor's grandson. His brother called the stern woman "Grandmum" and didn't fear her the least. He spoke so fondly of her that it was sometimes easy to forget that Nathan's Grandmum and Harry's teacher were the very same person.

"How do you get along with Nathan?"

He blinked, taken aback by the question. "Uh, pretty good, I think. I like him."

"That's good. I suspect my grandson will share that sentiment. He, like most children, was raised on stories of you," she smiled before shaking her head slightly. "However, I did not summon you here to talk about Nathan. Harry, I owe you an apology. When I discovered who you truly are, I should've taken appropriate steps and not kept it a secret."

"Uh, that's alright-"

"No, it's not. I found out about your parentage at the end of your First Year. You were only ten years old, one of the youngest students this school has ever seen even if no one knew about it. It was my duty to protect you and I failed that duty when I decided to send you back to those horrid Muggles and leave you in the dark," she said grimly. "I did it because I was selfish. I always suspected that Nathan's adoption hadn't been entirely legal and when I found out about you…there was no doubt that if I exposed you, my daughter would lose her only son and I could not bear to take her joy away from her."

"I understand, Professor. Really, I do."

She smiled at him sadly. "You really are Lily's son. You may not be her blood but you are her son," the smile was replaced by a serious expression as she straightened her back. "Well, be that as it may, there are some things I wish to discuss with you. I assume it hasn't escaped your notice that our new Headmistress works very closely with the Minister. I must urge you to be careful around her. She will use any chance she can get to get rid of you. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Good. You may go now. Better hurry, the prefects will hand out your schedules soon."

Harry nodded and stood up. His hand was already curled around the door handle when McGonagall spoke up once more.

"Oh, and one more thing. Don't let them call you Malfoy. I forgot about it yesterday in the hurry of it all but it's very important that you insist on being called Black. By calling you Malfoy, they will try to undermine you and perhaps your brothers as well. That name is a disgrace and you can't let them use it in reference to you. Don't let them undermine you. Good luck, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione and Ron were already glancing over their schedule by the time Harry arrived in the Great Hall. Neville hadn't waited in the common room, thankfully, but had made his way to the Ravenclaw table to have breakfast with Nathan and Luna. For a moment, Harry gravitated toward his brother but he pulled back to go sit with his friends. Nathan was fine. He certainly didn't look like someone had rough-housed him the night before or given him any trouble whatsoever. He was just being stupid.

Fred and George rushed past him without a word, leaving him barely enough time to revel at the sight of them together. It had been weird sitting in the common room with only George around.

"Good morning, Harry! Are you alright? I've got your timetable."

"Yeah," he sat down beside Ron and groaned as he spotted what they'd have to put up with first thing. _Double Potions_. "I can't believe we've got double Potions."

"Me neither," Ron grumbled. "You don't even know the worst thing yet, mate! Hermione's got Charms instead of Potions!"

"What?" He grabbed Hermione's timetable out of her hand. "Why?"

"Everyone has a different schedule. I couldn't find one person with the exact same one as me."

Ron stabbed a sausage unhappily. "Yeah, even we don't share all of them. After Potions, I'll have Charms and you'll be in Transfiguration."  
He laid the three parchment pieces besides each other and eyed them closely as he filled his plate with scrambled eggs. "Wait, it says here I've got Arithmancy tomorrow."

"Everyone who took Divination before was signed up for something else. I think they don't offer it anymore."

"You don't seem very bothered by that. They must've fired Trelawney."

She shrugged. "Divination isn't real anyway."

Harry frowned at her but didn't comment further. Divination was the only thing Hermione didn't excel in and she had never made it a secret that she loathed both the subject and Trelawney.

Ten minutes before classes were set to begin, Harry and Ron parted ways with Hermione to start their walk down to the dungeons. Harry had never liked Potions and he wasn't good at it anyway. Snape, in his usual horrid way, only made it worse. He remembered faintly that he'd been looking forward to the class, before he'd met the professor. It was magic and everything to do with magic was exciting back then. Once he'd had his first encounter with Snape, that excitement washed away and left only the bitter taste of disappointment behind.

"Harry, Ron, wait up!"

Harry's heart sunk further as he spied Neville running after them. Between the three of them, they'd lose hundreds of house points and earn dozens of detentions. Neville was a genius when it came to plants but he was just as useless as Harry when it came to potions, maybe even more so, and Snape breathing down his neck had never served to ease Neville's fear.

"You too?" Ron muttered, picking up the pace again once Neville caught up to them. "Have they just put everyone who's useless in potions in the same class? No offense."

Neville shrugged. "None taken. Hermione's not with us?"

"She's got Charms."

"I wish I'd have Charms now," he said wistfully, absently picking on the hem of his robes. "Harry, Nate said to tell you that Mrs Malfoy sent you a letter."

"It's Ms Black now," he corrected. "Why does Nathan have my letter?"

"She sent it with Zeus."

"Who's Zeus?" Ron asked.

Harry glanced at him. "Nathan's owl. Did he say anything else?"

"Just that he'd give it to you at lunch. He didn't want to forget so he told me to go sure you'd know and could remind him."

By the time they arrived at the Potions classroom, almost all seats were already taken. All students, Harry noticed, wore the Pendragon crest.

They found seats near the back of the room, which Harry wasn't too upset about, and were almost done pulling out their things when Snape swept into the room with his black robes billowing behind him.

"As all of you ought to remember," Snape began before he'd even reached the front of the room. "Next June, every one of you will be required to sit one of the most important examinations of your career. Although I realize that Headmistress Umbridge has cleverly put the most moronic of you all in one class, lest you disrupt the others, I expect nothing less than 'Acceptable' out of all of you. Of course, you won't be able to continue this class in your Sixth Year. Your level of…expertise," he sneered. "Cannot hope to match the standards I set for those who wish to take their N.E.W.T.s in this class. I certainly don't expect to see even one of you again in one year's time."

Harry didn't feel too horrible at the prospect of not having to endure two more years of Snape's teaching.

"Until then, however, I am required to continue teaching you- although _trying to teach_ might be a more apt description. Today's potion is the Draught of Peace, used to soothe the distraught mind," he tapped the blackboard and a list of ingredients and steps appeared at once. "Be careful with the ingredients. Too graciously used and your potion will put its drinker into a heavy sleep."

With another flick of his wand, the cupboard flew open and everyone set to work. By the end of the class, neither Ron, Neville nor Harry had managed a potion that was even close to what it should've been. It didn't bode well at all for them- the first potion of the year was, by Snape's standard, the easiest. They had failed miserably and he didn't see how they could possibly improve enough to reach an 'Acceptable' by the time June rolled around.

"I've got Transfiguration next," he said as they took the stairs up.

"Maybe McGonagall will go easy on you," Ron offered. "You being her grandson's twin brother and all."

Neville shook his head. "I've grown up with Nathan and she never went easy on me," he glanced at his schedule. "I've got Transfiguration as well."

"What's going on up there?"

A cheering crowd had gathered before the Grand Staircase. Frowning, Harry pushed through them, hoping to catch a glimpse at what was happening. In the middle of the crow stood Draco and a Slytherin boy from the year above them, flanked by Draco's former goons who towered even the tall Sixth Year.

"Not so strong now, are you, traitor?"

"I'm not a traitor," Draco hissed.

"Oh, is that so?" The Sixth Year taunted. "How come you're hanging with Potter's crowd then?"

Crabbe cackled. "Yeah, Malfoy. Even needed Potter and Longbottom to protect you, didn't you?"

"You know, Crabbe, I wonder where all that bravery was when Longbottom broke your nose. Mind, he's a fourteen-year-old who is at least half a foot smaller than you, I see why you'd be scared of him."

"That filthy Blood Traitor took me by surprise-"

"Of course he did," Draco cooed.

"Why, you-"

The Sixth Year held up his hand. "Shut it, Crabbe. Now, Malfoy, he mightn't be the smartest of the bunch but he speaks the truth. Potter and another of those Longbottom fools? Pathetic."

Harry straightened his back and stepped out of the crowd, immediately attracting several stares.

"Why don't you say that to my face?"

"Fine," the boy smirked. "It's pathetic that Malfoy needs your pitiful help to stand up to others."

 _Crack_. His hand collided with his nose the way Nathan's had collided with Crabbe's. Shaking his smarting hand, Harry suddenly understood why his brother preferred this method of fighting. He looked on with a sick fascination as the boy clapped his hands over his nose.

"I'm sorry, have I taken you by surprise?"

"What is going on here?"

Snape pushed past the students and glared at the lot of them. His gaze almost immediately settled on Harry.

"Black," he sneered. "I should've known you'd be involved in this-"

"It wasn't his fault," Draco interrupted. "Mulciber, Crabbe and Goyle cornered me, threatened me and insulted my family. P- _My brother_ was only attempting to help me."

Snape glowered at his godson before nodding slowly. "Very well. All five of you are to go straight to my office- _without any more fighting if you please._ "

"I'll see you later," Harry muttered as they went by Neville, who simply nodded at him.

The door slammed shut behind them. Harry and the four Slytherins were stood before Snape's desk as the man strode around them to stand with his back facing them.

"Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle, you will lose 10 points each and serve two detentions with me. You're dismissed. See to it that you find yourselves in your classrooms hurriedly. As you ought to be aware, I will know if you do not comply. And Mulciber, do have Madame Pomfrey see to your nose."

With a hurried nod, they scrambled from the room and Harry awkwardly shifted to the right, farther away from where his arm had previously been pressed against Draco's. Snape slowly turned around and sat down in his straight-backed chair, eyeing them both with cold black eyes. He still didn't speak a word and just as Harry opened his mouth to finally break the tense silence, a knock on the door did the job for him. Without waiting to be asked in, the door was pushed open and Nathan stuck his head into the room.

"You asked to see me?"  
Snape beckoned Nathan to come closer. Once they all stood in a line, he leant forward.

"Are you or are you not aware of the public attention all three of you are being given at the moment?"

"Yes, sir," Harry and Draco mumbled, deliberately ignoring Nathan's confused gaze.

"Then what in Merlin's name made you think it was a good idea to break Mulciber's nose?"

"You _broke_ his nose?" Nathan asked, laughing.

Snape glared at him. "Don't assume I haven't been made aware that you took the same approach times and times before and are likely what started this. Merlin knows that Potter doesn't need you to make him more of a brute than he already is."

"I'm not a brute!" Harry snapped hotly.

"Be that as it may," Snape continued, ignoring Harry's remark. "I'm certain your grandmother will be having words with you shortly. Until then, all three of you need to understand that you're in no position to be _bold_ or _reckless_ ," he sneered. "Make no mistake, few people would care if you are expelled _or worse_."

"Uncle Severus-"

Snape's eyes softened slightly as he looked upon Draco. "Draco, I have not endured many a sleepless night to find a cure for you just to see you throw your life away because you felt it necessary to be loyal to some boys you happen to be related to."

"May I speak to you alone?"

As soon as Snape curtly nodded his head, Harry grabbed Nathan's sleeve and was out of the room before the professor had even finished his nod.


	22. To Delve Deeper

**Hello, guys! Before we get started on the new chapter, I'd like to address an issue that came up in the reviews earlier this week concerning my statement that I don't want people who think gay = bad to read this story. The reviewer in question said they felt hurt by my words. Since then, we have had a lovely chat in which we exchanged world views and apologized to one another. In the end, I think we both benefitted from this situation. However, to prevent such things from happening again, I want to make my intentions clearer. Since I'm too lazy to type it out again, this is an excerpt from one message I sent the reviewer. The A/N in question is the ones from Chapter 16 and I wrote it basically right after hearing about what happened in Orlando.  
**

 **"When I wrote this A/N, I was very emotional. Things had happened. My friends and my brothers, who are part of the LGBT, were feeling horrible and threatened and I was reacting to that. I admit that I reacted to it too strongly and too emotional[...]I now realize that by stating "a sin" in the first A/N I was actively making an effort to exclude a group of people that maybe don't think we should 'heal' homosexuals or, worse yet, destroy them. I simply wanted to make this a safe space, of sorts, for people who were being attacked on a daily basis and maybe find refuge in stories.**  
 **I stand by what I said in the second A/N. We do need to be people and it's time I practice what I preach."  
**

 **So, this is why I wrote what I wrote. However, this does not mean that I will accept any homophobic reviews. I absolutely want this to be a safe space. Those reviews will be deleted, I don't care what else you say, if you're being a prick, I will delete your review. That rule also stands for being a general prick.**

 **Hate the sin, love the sinner. That's a saying everyone should live by, no matter what religion, gender, sexuality or nationality a person has. A lot of religions view homosexuality as a sin and an abomination. I don't. I never have and I never will and that will reflect my writing. However, being a religious person and believing that homosexuality is a sin does not make you a homophobe or a bad person and I don't want to exclude these people. Hating on homosexuals, trying to break them and 'beat the homo out of them' makes someone a homophobe and a bad person. For those people, I do stand by what I said. I don't want them here. Everyone else is welcome.**

 **Again, I'm very sorry if I've hurt anyone else. I know plenty of you probably agree with my first statement and will look down onto this one but that's not my business. The reviewer made me reflect and you know how it is, in hindsight you're always smarter. And, anyways, you're not supposed to make any decision or open your mouth while you're upset and emotional because you're guaranteed to not think things through the way you would when you're being rational.**

 **On a lighter note, a big hooray to Brandyk for being my 100th review! Such a nice one too, made me really happy! (Technically, you're my 101st but I don't count the first because I had to delete it for being seriously inappropriate.)**

 **Now, on with the story!**

* * *

His godson sat stiffly in one of the chairs and Severus could see him straining to hear Potter and Longbottom's footsteps grow quiet as they put a healthy distance between themselves and his office. Once the noise had faded away, the boy fixed him with cool grey eyes.

"I don't care for them."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "That was not the impression one would gain if they saw you consorting with them as you have done recently."

" _I_ don't care for them," he repeated. "But Mother does. She cares about them enough to choose them over Father."

"Her choice was not solely dependent on Potter and Longbottom, Draco. You and I both know how very opposed she was to the idea of you joining the Dark Lord. Sooner or later, I don't doubt she would've turned her back to keep you innocent. She was simply pushed too far by Lucius' willingness to sacrifice a boy she considers her son."

Narcissa had been more than just opposed to it. She'd told both him and Lucius over and over that she'd not let her only son join, that she'd give her life to make sure he'd never kill for the Dark Lord. He had thought she was being protective, as she tended to be, and that she'd see reason once the Dark Lord approached the topic in a few years but now it was almost impossible for the boy to ever take the Dark Mark. They wouldn't want him anymore. He had been branded and grouped with people like the Weasleys and, eloquent and eager as Draco may have been, Severus didn't see how he'd ever remove that stamp from his name. He wasn't sure if he wanted him too- Draco was what little family he had. He didn't want to see him befriending murderers and torturers, didn't want him to study the ways of Bellatrix Lestrange or her husband and he certainly did not want to apparate to Azkaban to visit his bright godson during his life sentence.

"Mother cares a lot about them, you can't tell me otherwise. It's in her nature, she can't help it, but she's _my mother_ , Uncle Severus. If anything were to happen to them, she'd be devastated. I can't bear to see her like that, you know I can't."

However, maybe he was taking too little consideration of Narcissa's overbearing need to be a good mother. If she didn't care about Potter's life, she wouldn't have fought her own husband to flee with the boys. The very thought of Potter's impending death had scared her enough and had prompted her into these drastic measures. She was protecting the boy as she would her own son and that, he knew, would one day become a problem.

"You are right," he conceded, trying to recall the metaphorical abyss Narcissa had faced when her twin sons had first been taken. "She would be devastated but she would learn to move on. She has done so before. It wasn't easy but by the time you were cured and your father abandoned the search for them, your mother had learnt to live without the twins."

"Uncle Severus, she was tolerating life without them," Draco insisted. "There's a difference."

He shook his head. "Draco, you must not grow attached to Potter. _No one_ must."

"Why not?"

"The Dark Lord yearns for the day he can present Dumbledore with Potter's dead body. He had come after that boy four times already and the only reason Potter is still alive is because he has unbelievable luck. Sooner or later, that luck is bound to run out. When that day arrives, it's your choice whether the body you will see will be that of Potter or that of your brother."

Soon, there would only be memories of Harry Potter, the boy wonder who died to vanquish the Dark Lord. He'd be a legend, the one dream all Potters seemed to share, and the people would worship him. He'd be dead and gone, like the baby his sweet Lily birthed, and when that day inevitably arrived, Severus wanted Draco's heart to be hardened. He couldn't let his godson wander into the coming war with a heart that would break and a mind that would stray. When the war broke out, Draco couldn't be a _brother_ , not to the likes of Potter and Longbottom.

Granted, Longbottom's death wasn't as certain as Potter's but the boy _had_ been raised under the influence of Minerva McGonagall for close to fourteen years. He was willing to bet that Longbottom would not stray from Potter's side unless to move on to his 'new adventure' as Albus liked to phrase it.

"I don't think Mother would agree with you."

He shook his head. "My job is to protect you, not to please your mother. Now run along. Next time I find out you have been fighting, you won't get off this easily."

Draco hesitated before nodding jerkily and leaving the room quickly. Severus leant back in his chair, staring at the door his young godson had just left through. He could act all he wanted- Severus knew that Draco was beginning to care for both Potter and Longbottom, even if that feeling was but a spark very, very deep inside him. For both their sakes, he couldn't let that spark grow any further. He had sworn to protect the child on the day of his birth and Merlin be damned, he wouldn't let him be hurt by the death of a boy who never stood a chance.

* * *

Harry only let go of his brother once they left the dungeons and sighed in relief.

"I can't believe Snape let us go without punishment."

"Us?" Nathan scoffed. "You mean you, right? I haven't done a thing since we got here."

Midway through rolling his eyes, the blue crest stitched onto Nathan's robes caught his gaze and brought a smile onto his face. "I knew you'd be sorted into Ravenclaw."

His brother shrugged. "Does it really matter anymore? It's not really Ravenclaw. They've even fired Professor Flitwick, can you believe it?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Nathan incredulous. "What?"

"They fired him. I heard from the Head Boy- he's a Ravenclaw too. People were wondering why Flitwick hadn't been at the feast, as one does, and Johnson, that's his name, he said that Flitwick had been fired. I don't see why. My grandmother always praised him and he was my tutor for a few years."

"Do you know about Hagrid? Who else was fired?"

Nathan shrugged. "I don't know. He only told us about Flitwick, no one else. Why? Was anyone else not there?"

"Professor Trelawney. She's the Divination professor and the entire subject was taken off the curriculum."

"No idea. I can ask Grandmum later, I'm going to go see her during Lunch. That reminds me," Nathan pulled his satchel around and searched its content. Harry could hear book fall over and metals clash against each other before Nathan finally pulled out a yellowing parchment and held it up triumphantly. "Aha! Here," he handed the envelope over to Harry, who turned it over to eye the crest. "I got one as well. It's from- uh-"

"Our mother?"

"It's weird calling her that."

He shrugged. "How did you refer to our parents before you knew who they were?"

"I called them my biological parents, my mum and dad called them the people who left me on the streets to die. Though I guess that's not really accurate anymore."

Harry stuffed the letter into his own bag and started walking again, albeit much slower than before. "Did you really think you've been left to die?"

"What else was I supposed to think? All my parents ever told me was that they were in America on a business trip and on their way to their hotel, they passed an abandoned ally. Only, it wasn't abandoned. They heard a baby crying, went to check it out and found me in a basket all by myself."

Grimacing, Harry looked down onto his shuffling feet. His brother told that story in such a casual way, one would think he wasn't bothered at all by the thought of having been abandoned by his birth parents to die alone in some random alleyway. Maybe Nathan didn't care anymore, especially since he knew it wasn't the truth, but Harry couldn't help but imagine him as the tiny brown-haired boy he used to be, still unused to pain and hatred but already burdened with the knowledge that the people who were supposed to love him were the ones who left him for dead. Although, he supposed, Nathan might say the same about him when it came to the Dursleys, even if he hardly ever mentioned them.

Nathan cleared his throat. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Where are you headed now?"

"Transfiguration," he groaned. "McGonagall's gonna kill me for being so late."

"Don't worry, just tell her the truth, she likes that. I wish I had Transfiguration," he grimaced. "I've got Astronomy now. I hate it. Stargazing is just useless. Why would I need to know where the Big Dipper is? That won't help me. Anyway, I better get going, it'll take me ages to get up there."

"Do you know the way?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "What? Do you think Grandmum never took me here? I know this place as well as any of you."

In the end, Harry decided not to go to Transfiguration after all. Instead, he found himself making his way back to his new dorm. Without bothering to even take off his robes, he dumped his satchel on the bed and sat down on the floor to lean against the sturdy wood.

The wax seal that held the parchment together showed a crest he vaguely recognised as the Black crest. It looked fancy at first glance but upon looking closer, he managed to make out the skull that sat atop the crest and amidst a lot of unnecessary decorations. The crest itself was separated into the three parts and Harry personally favoured the one that was directly beneath the skull. That section features an armoured arm holding a sword in the air, very Gryffindor considering the Blacks were traditionally Slytherins.

Underneath the crest were the family words in Latin and although Harry didn't know the words, he knew they translated to _'Always Pure'_.

Shaking his head slightly, he ripped the seal apart and opened the parchment. A picture immediately fell into his lap. Cautiously, he picked it up and smiled. His mother, Narcissa, was beaming at the camera, dishevelled and obviously exhausted, holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket in her arms. Mr Malfoy sat beside her on the hospital bed holding another baby in an identical blanket and looking down onto it lovingly. He had never seen any pictures of himself before he turned into Harry Potter- he had assumed there were none since he'd been kidnapped just an hour after his birth. He couldn't even tell which one of the babies was him.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I know it is a bit early for me to be sending letters to you but ever since Draco's First Year, I have made it a tradition to write him a letter every day for the first week of school. In the beginning, I did this to help him transition from home to school, since that can be quite difficult for an eleven-year-old boy, but it grew into a tradition that I have come to love. This year, I thought it would be nice to include you and Nathan in this as well since you are my sons just the same._

 _If you don't mind, the letters I will be writing you two will still be a little different. Instead of telling you about home, as I usually do with Draco, I wish to tell you about things that might interest you about our family. You can write back and ask me questions as well. I know I could have done this when you were still here but I thought you would be more comfortable this way._

 _The included picture is the only picture we have of you and Nathan. It was taken when you were fifteen minutes old. The baby in Lucius' arms is your brother and you're the one I am holding. You were the tiniest little things and I easily could've held both of you, even after the thirty-eight hours of labour you boys put me through. I was told it was normal that you were so small but it was still surreal to see that such tiny babies could have caused such a labour._

 _I still remember the day I went into labour quite clearly. I was with Draco at the time. He had just turned one the previous month and was still very sickly. At the time, every second we got to spend with him was a blessing as we were repeatedly told that he could die any day. That was quite terrifying to both of us. Anyhow, when my water broke, I was reading Draco a story and-_

Still grinning broadly, he read through the letter in which his mother, in great detail, talked about the day he and Nathan were born, starting with the thirty-eight hours of labour- so he supposed she actually talked of the _days_ it took for them to be born- and ending with them being brought to the nursery. She didn't talk at all of the moment she found out they were gone or anything that happened after she last saw them. She had signed with ' _Your Mother'_ although Harry thought the 'your' looked a bit crammed in, as though she had added it in afterwards.

Clutching the picture tightly, he pulled his trunk closer and grabbed his picture album. On the very first page was a single photo of him and the Potters taken a few days after Harry Potter's death with enough room left to put at least two more photos on the same page. He smiled and stuck the picture of his biological family next to that of his adoptive one, dipped his quill into ink and wrote in the finest handwriting he could manage _'July 31_ _st_ _, 1981: My Family and Me'_.


	23. Chapter 23

The mood in the Great Hall was astonishingly bad, a steep contrast to the emotional high his mother's letter had took him to. He could see Hermione's unhappy frown from several metres away and Ron's complaints were just low enough that they wouldn't be heard at the staff table. Harry, however, could hear them and he felt his mood sink to match that of the others. _No magic!_ Ron repeated over and over, growing both more desperate and more hysteric each time he said it. Hermione could only nod along, unhappily poking her empty plate.

He cautiously sat down besides Ron and eyed them warily, waiting for them to take note of him. When Ron's complaints simply went on and Hermione's listlessness grew further, he coughed and gave a half-hearted grin. "Hey, guys."

Hermione's head snapped up at once. His grin fell at the icy glare she shot him. "Harry James Potter! Where were you? You were supposed to be in Transfiguration with Neville!"

"I was…busy. And it's actually Eoin Abraxas Black," he said, grimacing.

Ron stopped midway through another complaint and stared at him wide-eyed. For a moment, Harry thought there was something seriously wrong before he burst into laughter, loud enough to attract stares from all over.

"Abraxas?" He laughed, holding his side. "Your middle name is _Abraxas?"_

Harry scowled. "Draco said our grandfather's name was Abraxas. And you can't talk, _Bilius_."

The redhead's mouth snapped shut. A familiar blush crept over him. "It's a family name. I was named after Dad's brother."

Deciding to drop the matter for now, he turned to Hermione. "So what happened?"

"Oh, Harry, it's awful!" Hermione whined. "They fired Flitwick!"

He nodded. "Yes, I know. Nathan told me earlier. Who'd they replace him with?"

"Professor Marcus Connelly. He's a horrid man and from the Ministry no less! He told us that we'd be doing no magic, just reading!"

"I thought you loved reading-"

"I do but it's hardly helpful for our O.W.L.s to just _read_ about the spells. How are we supposed to perform them for our exams? It's horrible!"

"Yeah, and Umbridge isn't any better," Ron muttered. "She teaches Defence. I can't stand her."

Harry's heart sunk. Reading? There was no way any of them would pass their exams at the end of the year if they only did theoretical work. Hermione was brilliant at it, of course, and so were a few others but he didn't learn by reading about things. He needed to _do_ them.

"Are you sure we won't do practical work?"

"They specifically said we wouldn't need it," Hermione said. "Umbridge said that there was no need for us to use spells. It's rubbish."

For Hermione to call a teacher's curriculum rubbish, it had to be very bad. Last time she'd criticized a professor, it had been Trelawney and her questionable art of reading the future and even though he still thought she might've overreacted back then, he didn't question her judgment when it came down to it. And what he'd heard so far did sound like a load of rubbish. They needed spells, now more than ever. Voldemort was back, whether Umbridge liked it or not, and they needed to prepare.

He glanced up at the High Table. Umbridge looked ridiculously small in Dumbledore's high-backed chair. Her bright pink clothes contrasted the other professors' muted colours and even the purse she'd put up beside her plate was practically radiating. She was smiling around the Great Hall sweetly, occasionally taking a small bite to eat and Harry couldn't refrain a grimace at her face. He whipped his head around when her small eyes suddenly fell on him and tried to act casual until he felt her gaze move on.

"She gives me the creeps," Ron said.

He nodded. "Me too. Are we going to do something about her?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "No. Definitely not. Harry, she's probably already out to get you. We can't give her any more reasons to hate you."

"Does that even matter? Everyone hates me already."

"That's not true-"

Ron grimaced. "A lot of people believe what the Daily Prophet says."

"And how would you know that?"

"I share a dorm with Zachariah Smith and Seamus. Now that Malfoy's out of the picture, those two are probably the ones who hate you the most."

Seamus was sitting at the far end of the table together with Dean. The two of them had been the closest of friends since the beginning. Dean hadn't seemed to mind much that Harry Potter wasn't a Potter after all and Harry had assumed that Seamus shared his opinion. Yes, he hadn't made any effort to talk to them this morning in Potions but then again, Harry hadn't talked to him either.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sorry, mate. They were really happy that they don't share a dorm with you. I wish I didn't have to share with them, those stupid pricks. You should be glad. You got the good ones."

"I got Ernie Macmillan," he said drily. "I'm not sure what side he's on. In Second Year, he was sure I was the Heir of Slytherin, remember?"

"But that was when his best friend had just been petrified. He was scared," Hermione resonated. "He doesn't seem like a bad person to me."

"I never said he was. I just don't trust him to believe me, is all."

"Well- anyway, let's not dwell on that. I'm sure they'll come around soon. What do you have after lunch?"

"History," Ron said around a mouthful of potatoes.

"Me too."

"Oh," Hermione deflated. "I have Ancient Runes. I was hoping we'd have at least one class together. Ron and I have Defence and Transfiguration together at least."

"Well, maybe there's another class we share. It's only the first day."

They laid their schedules out next to each other. After much deliberation, Hermione looked back up. "Astrology. We only have Astrology together. But I think you and Ron have a lot of classes together."

"At least we won't be able to cheat off you anymore. I know that bugs you," he offered. By the look on her face, he knew it hadn't worked.

Ever since the Troll incident in First Year, they had done virtually everything together. Now that they didn't even share a common room anymore, they'd hardly see each other. It was a change he wasn't sure any of them was ready to make- he definitely wasn't.

"I wonder how Fred and George are coping," he mused out loud.

Ron shuddered. "Not well. Hermione and I saw them earlier, before you got here. They don't have a single class together besides electives. They went off to talk to McGonagall. I've never seen them so angry. Not even Mum can separate them for long. Before their First Year, they swore they'd drop out if they were sorted into different houses."

"Maybe it's good they're not together all the time anymore," Hermione said meekly. "They can't spend their whole lives together."

Ron shrugged. "They're seventeen now, they can drop out if they want to and Mum can't stop them."

"Besides, I think they're planning on opening that joke shop together. They don't really need their N.E.W.T.s anyway."

"Everyone needs their N.E.W.T.s," she rolled her eyes. "What if their joke shop doesn't work out? They need alternatives."

"You sound like Mum. Don't worry about it, Fred and George will be fine. They always are."

Hermione eyed him sceptically. Eventually, she nodded, grabbed her book bag and stood up. "We'd best get going. Lunch is almost over."

"What? I'm not done yet!" Ron complained. "And Harry hasn't even started!"

"Harry!"

He raised his hands in surrender- he hadn't even noticed that he hadn't eaten. He wasn't very hungry either but to appease Hermione, he snatched up an apple and bit into it. "I'll eat this on our way to Binns' room."

Pulling Ron away from his plate was far harder than getting Hermione to stop nagging him. By the time they finally left the Hall, most other students were getting ready as well and they only barely managed to escape the usual rush that followed lunch break. Too soon, they had to separate.

Neville caught up with them just before they reached the classroom. Together, they secured three seats in the back of the room.

"Thank Merlin," Ron muttered. "After that Defence class, I can really use this nap."

"Was Headmistress Umbridge really that bad?" Neville asked wearily.

"She's the biggest bore we ever had and that's including Quirrell!"

"Quirrell wasn't a bore," Harry said. "He was full of surprises."

Ron snorted and put his head on his folded arms.

"Maybe you should wait until roll call at least," Neville advised.

"That's fine, one of you can just answer for me. Harry's been doing that since Second Year."

Before the majority of the class had arrived, Ron had already dozed off, quietly snoring. Five minutes into his nap, several more students had joined him. Seamus Finnegan, who sat in the row before them, had even brought a pillow to class and had draped his robe over himself like a blanket.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Did Nathan say anything about- about my parents?"

"No. Why? Should he have?"

Neville shook his head. "No. No. Just wondering. Um, well, there's really bad history between the Longbottoms and the Blacks involving my parents and I- I was just wondering."

Harry nodded slowly. He knew that Neville had been raised by his grandmother and that their relationship wasn't exactly the best. Growing up, he'd spent a lot of time with Nathan. According to his brother, they were each other's best friend and had never cared that they weren't biologically related. If anyone knew what had happened to Neville's parents, it was Nathan. If his new family really had been involved- and if Neville said they were, it was definitely true- it was surprising that Nathan hadn't put up more of a fuss and that Neville was even speaking to them. Then again, Neville was never one to hold someone's heritage against them.

"If you ever want to talk about it…" Harry said, letting the offer hang in the air unspoken.

"Sure. Yeah. I'll keep it in mind. Just, you know, I've got Nate, don't I?"

"You do," he chuckled. "Before I met his godparents, I didn't even know people called him Nate. He just seems like such a…Nathan."

Neville shrugged. "Now he does. He didn't always like it."

He raised an eyebrow and made to respond when a middle-aged men walked into the room, wearing dull brown robes and who looked nothing like Professor Binns- for one, he wasn't transparent.

"Good afternoon, class," the man said, putting his briefcase down on the table. When no answer came, he turned around on his heel. "Will those of you who have yet to go to sleep please wake up your sleeping classmates? Thank you."

Harry nudged Ron's shoulder, snickering at the mumbled complaints. "Ron, wake up."

"What? Oh."

"Yes," the man said. "'Oh' is a good way to describe this situation, isn't it? My name is Professor Jonathan Craydon and I will be your new History of Magic professor. It was decided by the Ministry that your previous professor, Professor Binns, was insufficient to teach you of our history. Therefore, he was replaced. I'm afraid you will have to use your free periods to sleep."

"Which free periods?" Ron muttered. "We don't have any."

"That's most unfortunate, Mr…"

"Weasley," Ron said, taken aback that Professor Craydon had caught the remark. "Ron Weasley."

"Of course. Well, as I've said, it is most unfortunate that you have no free periods but this is your Fifth Year, after all. A very important year, as you might remember. No worries, I have no doubt that our syllabus for this year will be more than enough to encourage you to stay awake in my classes," he took out a parchment roll. "But first; roll call. When I call your name, you say 'Here, Sir' and I will note down where you sit. I hope you've chosen your seats very carefully because you will be seeing a lot of them the next few months unless I decide to move you."

The roll call, as always, started with Hannah Abbott. As they moved along, it quickly became obvious that the name 'Black' had been left out entirely and Harry sighed. He hadn't thought too much of McGonagall's warning before but if every new professor was going to insist on calling him Malfoy, it was sure to grow tiresome soon.

"Eoin Malfoy."

"It's pronounced 'Owen'," he said, barely keeping from snapping at Craydon. "And I'm called Eoin Black, not Malfoy. My mother informed the Headmistress of my name change and that of my brothers."

"Yes," Craydon said, smiling. "Of course, Mr Black. My bad. I shall remember in the future."

He made a show of crossing his name out and writing it down on the top of the list, right after Hannah where he should've been from the beginning, and moved on.

He had never enjoyed Binns' class much but with him, at the very least, History was an easy pass. To fail, one needed to be a special kind of stupid and since Harry knew he didn't qualify for that kind of stupid, he'd always had at least an Acceptable at the end of term. Craydon, he realized, wouldn't pass them for simply attending and handing in essays. He had expectations and after four years of sleeping in History of Magic, there were few people who could meet them right away. Harry definitely couldn't and neither could Ron. Neville, on the other hand, had actually answered three questions correctly by the end of class and earned them a total of fifteen house points.

"My Gran taught me history when she found out Binns was teaching," he explained after they shuffled out of the room, most of them sleep-deprived and annoyed by this turn of events.

"At least he's not as big a bore as Umbridge," Ron grumbled.

"Speaking of which," he glanced at his timetable. "I've got Defence next."

Neville nodded. "Me too."

As they parted ways, Ron patted him on the arm sympathetically.

"Well," he sighed. "Best get going before I get in another fight and ditch you again. Sorry about that, by the way."

Neville shrugged. "Don't worry, it's fine. It's nice you stood up for…your brother."

After a while, Harry grew tired of the silence.

"You know," he said. "I was thinking. Since my brother is your best friend and your cousin, I was thinking it might be nice if we'd spend some more time together. I mean, you could sit with us or we could play games in the common room or something."

He smiled crookedly, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Sure. I'd like that."

Harry grinned. This time, the silence didn't bother him.

In the past, he'd never made much of an effort to be a friend to Neville but now, he'd rectify that. He wouldn't let Neville be the third wheel for another year. It must've been hard for him in their old dorm. Dean and Seamus were a tight-knitted pair and Ron and Harry didn't necessarily invite him along either. With his own best friend back home, Neville had virtually no one. Until now.

* * *

 **Two reviews? Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed them. Both of these readers are very consistent in their reviewing and I appreciate that immensely. However, I'd also appreciate it if a few more of you could leave some reaction. A quick 'Like' or 'Dislike' will be enough, seriously (though it'd help if you tell me what you don't like). Reviews help me improve this story. Through your feedback, I can figure out what you like to see and what you'd rather not see. Without them, I just do what I want and sometimes, that's not the best way to go about it. Be that as it may, I won't ever hold back chapters for reviews. I just think it'd make this experience more enjoyable for all of us in the long run if you review, y'know?**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. When I was halfway through with it, I actually scraped the whole thing and rewrote it. This is a very improved version of the original and I'm really glad I scraped the first draft. Elements of it will probably appear later in the story, where they will fit way better.**

 **Oh, and also, my copy of Cursed Child finally arrived yesterday. Naturally, I finished it in less than four hours. For those of you wondering, I won't spoil anything. Cursed Child will have no impact on this story. At all.  
**

 **(It's been Saturday for 1 hour and 15 minutes now. Normally, I update pretty much at the stroke of midnight but this chapter you guys. I can't come up with a title. I sort of regret starting to use actual titles rn xD If you get an update alert sometime this week, it's probably me having an epiphany and naming this thing. Do you even get alerts for that? Dunno. Probably not. Anyway. Late night madness, I always fall victim to it no matter how often I stay up til 6am.)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter titles: The bane of my existence and my biggest regret in lif.**

* * *

They had almost reached the Defence classroom when Neville suddenly swerved around. Harry stopped to find out what was wrong and scowled when he saw Seamus standing behind them, holding Neville's sleeve in his hand. The Irish was glaring at Harry furiously.

"Neville, you should stay away from him," Seamus said, not bothering to look away from Harry.

"What are you on about?" Neville asked. "Harry's my friend, why would I stay away from him?"

"He's a ruddy Malfoy! He's just like them with his attention-seeking and filthy lies!"

Harry took a step forward as Neville pulled his arm out of Seamus' hold. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"I understand perfectly," he said, mirroring Harry's movement, forcing him to look up at the older and taller boy. "You're making up this story about You-Know-Who because you want the attention."

"His name is Voldemort and he's back. I'm not lying," he smirked at Seamus' visible flinch at the sound of the name. No matter how much he pretended to be strong and unafraid, Harry knew Seamus was just as scared and blind as the rest of them. Normally, he might sympathize but there was no time for that. Another war was coming and blindness and fear would not do.

"He's not back. He's dead, you hear me? He's dead and gone, just like the Potters. Bet you killed them too, didn't you? Killed them like you killed You-Know-Who."

"Shut up!" He yelled, pushing Seamus away from him and against the wall. "Shut up! You have no idea what you're talking about! Voldemort killed them. He killed them get through to me and he'll do it again if you don't stop denying it!"

"Harry!" Neville pried him away and gripped his arm tight but Harry had no interest going after Seamus once more. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with every breath he took, and his mind was racing. A shout was ringing in his ears, the sound of his mother's dying scream as she stood between him and Voldemort to protect his life. He could hear her pleading for mercy, offering her own life in place of his. He would _not_ listen to Seamus besmirch her memory, or his father's memory.

"You're crazy!" Seamus shouted, shaking. "Absolutely bonkers!"

Neville shook his head. "Go away, Seamus. Harry's right. You-Know-…V-Voldemort is back and one day, you'll have to accept it but by then, it might be too late. Now go."

As Seamus scurried away in fury and the small crowd that had gathered around them slowly broke up, Neville pulled him into a nearby empty classroom where Harry promptly kicked over the chair nearest to him.

"You shouldn't let him rile you up like that," Neville said. "That's what he wants."

"Oh, yeah? How would you know?"

Neville shrugged, unfazed by the venom in his voice. "I just do. I know him better than you. Just don't listen to him, Harry. You-Know-Who can't hide forever. He'll have to- to come out sometime and then everyone will see."

"So, you believe me then?"

"Of course, I do," Neville said, frowning. "Why would I believe you? You've got no reason to lie."

Harry scoffed. "Not even attention?"

"If I was you, I wouldn't want the fame. Not if I only got it because my parents are dead and I'm not. I know you don't want it either."

Suddenly, the tension in his shoulders dropped and the anger faded away. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, a motion which had lost its satisfaction since he had lost his dark messy hair, and turned to Neville with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"Don't worry about it," Neville smiled. "I understand."

The bell rang. Harry, startled by the noise, quickly pulled the door open and peered into the hallway. No one was standing by the Defence classroom anymore. Groaning, he gestured to Neville and led the way. They stood in front of the door for a second before Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door as firmly as he could and pushed it open.

Everyone was staring at them as they walked in. Some, like Seamus, were glaring at him but thankfully keeping their mouths shut. Umbridge stood at the front of the room, her hands folded in front of her belly, and smiled at them.

"Uh, sorry we're late," he said, vaguely pointing at himself and Neville. "We had to…sort something out."

"Messrs…Longbottom and Malfoy, I suppose?" Umbridge asked, peeking at her list.

"It's Black," he said tightly.

"My list says Eoin Malfoy. Is that incorrect?"

He jerked his head yes. "My mother informed you of my name change. She sent an owl after she got a divorce."

Her smile got wider. "Oh, yes. Of course. Do see to it that you do not come late to my class again, Mr Longbottom, Mr Black. Now, sit down, please."

They found two empty seats near the windows and sat down under the Headmistress' watchful eyes. After a few more second, she tore her gaze away from then to address the entire class.

"Now that we are all together at last, I wish to remind you that at the end of this year, you all will be taking you Ordinary Wizarding Levels examinations, more commonly known as O.W.L.s. These examinations will set you on your future paths which is why I find myself inclined to remind you that it is very, very important you study very hard. Failure to do so might lead to results you will not be pleased with and I, for one, would love nothing more than to see each and every one of you succeed," with a flick of her wand, the pile of books that was behind her began to distribute itself. By the time they reached Harry and Neville, the front rows had broken into low mutters. Harry picked up his book, titled ' _Dark Arts Defence – Basics for Beginners'_ and eyed it critically. He thumbed through the pages, catching glimpses of text every now and then. All of it seemed awfully familiar- most of what was in this book had been covered when they were being taught by Quirrell and not once did Harry come across a single spell, old or new. "Unfortunately, your education thus far has been nothing less than unacceptable, which is why I am so very pleased to assure you that this year, you all will receive the best education, all Ministry approved."

"There's no spells in here," Ernie Macmillan said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Why, of course not. What would you be needing spells for, dear child? No, you will be learning in a safe, risk-free environment this year."

"Hermione was right," he whispered as the muttering picked up again. "This is absolute rubbish."

"Now, now, I know this is not what you expected," Umbridge said, immediately quieting everyone down. "But I am sure that in time, you will see that this is the very best. In no time, you will have learnt everything you would have learnt in the previous four years had you had the fortune of being taught by competent teachers."

"Lupin was the best teacher we ever had," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Smiling sweetly, Umbridge levelled her eyes on him. "I'm sure it seems to you like he was the best, Mr Black, since you don't have anyone to measure him up to. Truly, Mr Lupin was hardly ideal to teach in a school of children. He is a dangerous half-breed."

Parvati Patil gasped in outrage. "Professor Lupin was a great teacher! He never hurt any of us, it's not his fault he was bitten by a werewolf."

Umbridge took a deep breath, obviously to calm herself. "And what is your name, my dear?"

"Parvati Patil."

"Well, Ms Patil, be that is it may, he was an unfit teacher and very dangerous. The only professor that could be described as competent might be Professor Quirrell-"

Ernie scoffed. "Quirrell was a stuttering fool. I doubt any of us learnt anything-"

" _Students in my class will raise their hands_ ," she snapped, a flash of anger coming across her before she collected herself again. "I have no interest discussing this with you. Kindly refrain from disrupting class again unless you wish to earn your first detention of the year."

When no one made another attempt at continuing the discussion, Umbridge nodded and turned to the class. "Please open your books to page one and read Chapters one and two until the end of class. _Silently_ , please. If you have questions, you are very welcome to ask them, of course."

Harry flipped his book open and stared at the page sullenly. He only skimmed the first page and its obnoxiously patronizing words before silently scoffing.

"Is there a problem, Mr Black?"

Every head snapped up again and Harry scoffed once more. "Yes."

"And what might that be?"

"This… _book_ ," he said, poking it with his finger. "It's absolute rubbish. You should be teaching us how to defend ourselves."

A murmur of agreement went through the class.

"Defend yourselves?" She gave a little laugh. "Why, what would you need to defend yourselves against?"

"I don't know. How about Voldemort, since he's back and all?"

Deadly silence settled over the room. Umbridge's smile immediately fell and she stared at Harry with venom-filled eyes. "Let me make this clear once and for all. _He_ is not back nor will he ever return."

"That's a lie! I've seen him come back, he killed Cedric-"

"I can assure all of you that the death of Cedric Diggory has been investigated thoroughly by Ministry officials. His loss was the result of a very tragic accident, no more."

Harry jumped up, blind fury coursing through his body. "He was killed!"

"Silence, Mr Black!"

"You can't hide from the truth forever!" He continued, swiping his book off the table. "He's back and he'll try to kill every one of us! We need to learn how to protect ourselves! I've been attacked by Death Eaters, just over a month ago. Are you saying I imagined that as well?"

Everyone stared at him wide-eyed. Ernie Macmillan gaped for air. "You- You were attacked?"

"No!" Umbridge interrupted, rushing to stand in front of Harry. "Mr Black is making up stories to gain your attention. He is a notorious liar. _He is not back_ and all Death Eaters have been incarcerated after the war was won."

"Won by me," he said tauntingly. "How come my father wasn't sentenced to Azkaban until this summer? He's a Death Eater, everyone knew it. How many more are still running free? Now that Voldemort is back-"

" _HE IS NOT BACK!"_

Silence. Then, slowly and hesitatingly, Neville raised a shaking hand. Without waiting to be noticed by Umbridge, he started talking, his voice unsure. "Why- Why would Harry make up s-such a horrible thing? We've known him since we were eleven. We _k-know_ Harry. He hates his fame."

Harry grinned at Neville gratefully.

"I agree," Lavender Brown said. "I mean, he's _Harry_."

He wasn't sure if she meant that as a compliment or not but still shot her a smile. Umbridge, however, was growing tired of the support he was given and slammed her hands on the table. Harry flinched and almost took a step back.

" _ENOUGH!"_ She yelled. "That's is quite enough! Mr Black, detention. Tomorrow, five o'clock. Now _sit down and be quiet_."

He'd had his fair share of bad professors but Umbridge took the crown. He'd take Lockhart over her any day. He'd even put up with Quirrell's stuttering and his paining scar. All but her. By the time class ended, he was positively seething, his anger close to bubbling over once more at any given moment. When the bell finally rang, he was the first out of the classroom, only slowing down once he noticed that Neville was trying to catch up to him.

"I hate her," he hissed.

Neville nodded in agreement and started to lead the way to the common room. "We're never gonna pass our O.W.L.s this way but…Harry, you can't let her rile you up like this."

"I know," he said, the anger finally starting to drip away. "It's just- I don't like being called a liar and Cedric- he deserves the truth. People should know what really happened."

The common room was still relatively empty when they arrived to drop off their bags. They rounded the corner that led to the dormitories and stopped abruptly as they ran head-first into someone. They took a step back.

"Oh, hey, George," Neville said. "Sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Oh, that's fin-"

"Wait," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "You're not George. You're Fred!"

Fred grabbed them by their robes and pulled them into their- thankfully- empty dorm.

"Harry, Harry, I will never figure out how you can tell us apart."

"It's easy. You-"

Fred clamped his hand over Harry's mouth. "Don't speak, Harrikins. That's a secret you'd best keep to yourself, eh?"

Once he'd removed his hand, Harry nodded. "Fine. What are you doing here?"

"Why, I'm supposed to be here, silly."

"No, you're not. George-"

"See, boys, George and I went to see dear Minnie during lunch and she gave us a very insightful insight. Truly. She told us that the best way to protest this silly new system is by pointing out its flaws. Peaceful protest, you see. She said that we have to comply. There can only be one of us in each dorm and one of us in each class."

"So?"

"Neville, m'boy," Fred grinned. "How many Weasley twins are in the Hufflepuff dorms right now? At this very second?"

"Just one- oh."

"You're switching places!" Harry exclaimed in sudden epiphany.

Fred's grin got wider. "But only sometimes. How long do you think until someone notices?"

"That's brilliant!"

"I'm so very glad you approve, Harry-boy. George will be very pleased to hear, we just couldn't do this without your approval."

With another grin, Fred slipped out the door. They stood in silence for a while before Neville slowly turned toward him.

"So…how _do_ you tell them apart?"

He laughed.

* * *

 **Okay, so, the confrontation between Umbridge and Harry worked out quite differently to how it does it canon. Mostly, that's due to the fact that Harry led the confrontation instead of Hermione. I always thought that Harry was the sort of person who reacts to anger with more anger and Umbridge would likewise let herself be riled up by Harry's words, which is why they both end up way more angry than in canon. It's also important to keep in mind that Harry walked into the room already angry to a certain degree because of the fight he'd had with Seamus.**

 **The book they use in class is the one from the movie since I like the title better. It's so much more patronizing and worked better. (I also might have forgotten to mention the book they used in Book 5 during the holidays, which is where they first started to suspect that this year's Defence was going to be way different. Oops. My bad.)**

 **To the reviewer who mentioned that they thought the story would focus more on the relationships: The fact that Harry and Nathan are Malfoys is, of course, the overlaying topic. However, the inital shock is over and done with. They both have started to adjust. Now that the school year has started, their lives pick up again, their normal issues catch up to them (well, I say normal) and for the time-being, those things do take precendence in their lives. Narcissa and Lucius are out of the picture for now, with the former being at Grimmauld Place and the latter in Azkaban. We will come back to them but for now, it's all about the three brothers learning to navigate in their changed world at school.  
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 **To the guest reviewer and anyone else annoyed by this: I ask for reviews. Yes. Want to know why? Because I want to improve. I don't want reviews for your praise. I want them so that I can figure out what works and what doesn't work. I have never based my updates off of reviews. I never will. I update once a week, on Saturday, no matter if I get one or ten reviews. Besides the fact that I wish to improve my writing skills and this story, reviews are, ultimately, the only reward FanFiction Authors get. I can't speak for them, of course, but based on my own experience, it is extremely encouraging to be told that people want to read my stuff. I get the urge to write and improve when people tell me my short-comings. It helps. It makes this whole experience more fun and way more enjoyable. I put hours into every single chapter. Writing a review takes seconds. I'm sorry if this bothers you but I'm not sorry for asking for reviews. If you've got an issue with that, I suggest you don't read my A/Ns. For future reference, kindly refrain from using swear words. We're all mature people here, we can voice our opinions without swearing.  
**

 **(P.s.: When I get reviews voicing criticism, I generally like to discuss it with the reviewer in private first. That allows me to further the topic, get more info and stuff. That way, I can engage my readers, you, better. If you criticize me, please log in so that I can get back to you personally. For me, this system has worked out well in the past, most notably in the matter concerning my view on homophobic people.)  
**


	25. Chapter 25

**I wrote three completely different drafts of this chapter before I realized it refused to be anything but a filler. Sorry. You'll get an insight into Narcissa's thoughts though and a free Black Family history lesson, that's nice, right? (Also, my Laptop just crashed when I was halfway done with the longer A/N at the bottom, rip) Enjoy!**

* * *

Before the Blacks lost all power with Sirius' incarceration, they were proud. They were one of the oldest pureblood lines still in existence and had produced outstanding figures such as Nigellius Phineas Black in almost every generation for hundreds and hundreds of years. At one point or another, almost every pureblood was bound to find some ancestor named Black in their family tree. They were the first of the Sacred 28.

Over the years, their name started to fade. Daughters were born that would pass on their husbands' names instead of their own and sons died without siring boys of their own.

Growing up, Narcissa had always known the pressure that rested on her generation's shoulders. They were only children, just five of them, and yet, they'd been raised to be saviours in their own right. They were meant to restore the Blacks to their old glory, to take them back to the years when parents yearned to marry their children to a Black. Now, a long ways away from being a child, Narcissa knew they had always been doomed for failure and worse, all for the sake of ridding the world of Mudbloods.

She could still remember that day, that terrible day, when her tarnished, twisted sister had dragged her young, vulnerable cousin in behind her to proudly show off his new Dark Mark. Regulus had only been sixteen, a boy still, and Bella a grown woman of twenty-six. He had subscribed to the Dark Lord's teachings as well as any of them but Narcissa had seen the slight green tinge on his face that day, the horror in his eyes as Bella boasted of Regulus' first kill and the screams his victim offered in her dying moments. Two years later, on Christmas Eve, she had stood by his grave, trying her best to ignore Andy's judging eyes and Bella's tale of betrayal. Sirius hadn't wept for his brother. He had put on a face of stoic acceptance and had wiped away the angry tear that slipped through the cracks during Regulus' burial. He had shouted and raged, had blamed his parents for encouraging the boy's venture into dark magic but he hadn't wept. As she sat opposite him now, she thought she could see the unshed tears inside his eyes as he stared ahead at Regulus' picture above the mantle.

"Who killed him?"

She blinked. "What?"

Sirius tore his eyes away from the picture and looked at her. "Reg. You must know. Bella would've told you, wouldn't she? Who killed Reg?"

"I don't know," she said earnestly. "All Bella said was that the Dark Lord ordered his death."

"Ordered it," Sirius repeated. "So it's true. I heard stories, of course. The Order speculated, they told me Reg had changed but I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it, not after what he had done to the Joneses."

She nodded but he had already turned away again. "They were his last victims. After that, he never killed again. I never knew why, he wouldn't say, but something about the Joneses was enough to drive him away once and for all."

"They had a baby girl," Sirius said, standing up and smoothing his shirt. "She was only a few days old. James and I found her in her crib."  
Her heart skipped a beat. "Had they- Was she-"

"Dead? No. Just orphaned. We took her to her uncle."

She sighed in relief and watched as he left the room. Between the two of them, Narcissa had always been so sure that Sirius would be the one to die fighting the Dark Lord. Proud, foolish Sirius, who turned out so very different than the rest them and who refused to submit to his parents' wishes with every bone inside his body. He had only been twenty-one, hardly more than a boy himself, when he went to Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. His mother had died four years later, stupidly proud of the thought that her firstborn was a murderer and the Dark Lord's right hand.

She startled as the fireplace roared to life. Clumsy as always, Nymphadora stumbled out of it and nearly fell to the floor in a rather poor attempt at regaining her balance. The girl grinned at her and thrust a piece of paper into her hands. Confused, she glanced at it, breaking into a small smile at the single word written on it; _Ravenclaw_.

"It just arrived," Nymphadora said. "I always knew he was gonna be in Ravenclaw. Oh, and this came for you," she dug an envelope out of her coat and handed it to her. "All mail for Grimmauld Place is being redirected to other houses- we directed yours to Mum."

"That's absolutely fine. Thank you for bringing this over."

She tried to hand the note back to Nymphadora but the girl simply waved her hand and held up another note. "That one is for you. See? He addressed it on the back. I've got my own. Nate never did bother with envelopes much unless for personal things."

Turning the note around, she found that her niece was indeed speaking the truth. In rather fancy cursive was her own first name- she would've liked her twins to refer to her as 'Mother' as Draco did but them calling her by her name was still better than 'Mrs Malfoy'. Written underneath her name in handwriting that wasn't as carefully done as her name, he had written out a short thank-you for the letter she'd sent him in the morning.

Nymphadora was almost out of the room when she turned around again. "Mum wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come 'round for dinner sometime."

"Yes, I'd like that."

They shared a smile and just like that, Nymphadora was gone. That girl had likely been a bit of a whirlwind when she was a child, Narcissa mused, feeling a pang of regret for not having been part of her sister's life in almost over twenty years. Andy had always been good to her, had always looked out for her and protected her and yet, Narcissa was quick to bid her goodbye and allow her to disappear from her life. Had her child not turned out to be Andy's godson, she doubted she'd have reconciled with her anytime soon, if at all.

It was almost funny how the tables had turned. If Bella ever got out of Azkaban, she would no doubt disavow both her and her sons, or even demand of her to hand Harry over to her. If such a thing were ever to happen, she knew just as surely that Andy would stand with her and would protect all four of them to her last breath. The same was most likely true for Nathan's adopted family as well, along with Sirius and Severus as Draco and Harry's godfathers and Lupin, too. Even some of the friends her boys had made over the years would gladly fight for them- the Granger girl and the Weasleys would be the first to draw their wands, no doubt, and from Nathan's tales, cowardly Neville Longbottom would defeat his own shadows for his cousin.

She almost laughed at the thought- had her boys not been kidnapped, it was unlikely they would have built such a huge support system. Death Eaters rarely took their loyalty anywhere near as far as her sons' friends would. Them being kidnapped at one hour old had set them up with protection far greater than anything she could've offered them. If the realization hadn't been so depressing, it would have probably been- no. It would still have been a very sad thought, no matter whether it referred to her or some other mother.

"Good afternoon, Ms Black," the werewolf, Lupin, stood in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back. "May I come in?"

She nodded. She knew the werewolf was Harry's favourite teacher and an uncle-like persona but he _was_ a werewolf still. Once a month, he was too dangerous to be around children, let alone _hers_ , and yet, he had dared to work at a school.

He sat on an armchair close to the fireplace and examined the tapestry that depicted her family tree. "I do believe Sirius rather dislikes that tapestry."

It probably didn't help that his face had been burnt off it when he was sixteen years old.

"I don't like it either," she said.

His eyes flitted to her own name and that of her children. "You have lovely sons," he said. "I knew Harry when he was just a baby, a newborn. He was a very quiet child, very agreeable."

She smiled despite herself. Sirius didn't offer many stories of _her_ Harry but tended to get lost in stories of _his_ Harry instead. Lupin, if nothing else, was sane enough to keep the two boys separate in his head.

"He was far quieter than James and Lily's true son, to say the very least," he continued. "His first word was 'mama', I believe. Harry's had been 'dada'. I- we used to call your son Jamie. I think James and Lily started it to stop feeling like they were replacing their son with yours," he suddenly stopped, probably realizing he was rambling in his attempt to tell her of her son. "I thought you might like to know these things. I know Sirius' mind is often meddled these days. He tries his best and he keeps reminding himself that Harry isn't James' son but it's still hard for him sometimes."

"Yes, I've noticed. I appreciate it that you are willing to share your memories of Harry with me."

"Well, I suppose you're the one person who deserves them most, aren't you?"

"I suppose," she paused, a thought coming to her. "Did you know? Werewolves have particularly good senses, you must have suspected that the Potters' true son had been replaced."

"I…suspected that something was off but I have to admit that I was inclined to ignore that feeling. Harry had been very sick, especially in the month leading up to his passing. His smell had always been off and I told myself that the difference was due to his increased health. I thought it particularly odd that they suddenly began calling him Jamie but I waved if off as them attempting to give him a new start in life. I was wrong and I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have ignored the obvious signs." "

She pursed her lips as she pondered his words. He seemed genuine, although she doubted whether Lupin was ever anything but genuine. "I accept you apology," she said, hesitating. "Maybe it was for the best. My sons did grew up very well, perhaps better than they would have with Lucius for a role model, and I can't deny that they have established loyal relations they wouldn't have had otherwise."

"I'm sure they would have grown up just as great with you. Draco is a very clever boy."

It was likely the only nice thing he had to say about Draco. Merlin knew she loved her firstborn with everything she had but she knew that, away from home, he tended to be self-righteous that she would have liked him to be. A Gryffindor like Lupin wouldn't welcome his Slytherin crest either and even she knew that Harry was his favourite student. He was bound to know of Harry's rivalry with Draco, which hopefully laid in the past now.

Eoin and Finian might have grown up to be more like Draco had they been raised alongside him- or maybe, Draco would have grown up to a bit more like them. Their love for Muggles and Mudbloods would certainly have been nipped in the bud before it could even begin to settle in their hearts but she didn't doubt they would've grown up just as foolishly loyal as they were now- besides Lucius' latest feat of cowardice, both their families did tend to be fiercely loyal of their own.

Aria and Kelvin Longbottom had nurtured Nathan's thirst for knowledge and his love for literature, wizarding and muggle alike, whilst Andy and Ted and taught him the ways of Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Minerva McGonagall had certainly been busy teaching him chivalry and honour. At least half of these things would never have been known to him had he been raised in Malfoy Manor.

Harry, on the other hand, had been raised by Muggles. He hadn't known about his wizarding heritage until age eleven and- well, that was all she knew. She had figured out that he hadn't been very happy with those guardians of his, which reminded her that she had yet to pay them a visit, but she didn't know any of the specifics. She frowned.

"If you don't mind my asking," Lupin said quietly. "What troubles you?"

"Those people that raised Harry- who are they?"

"I don't know much about them, I'm afraid. Harry doesn't like to talk about them very much. They're called Dursley, an aunt and uncle and their son. I only interacted with them once, very briefly, when Harry was a little boy, and they seemed like unpleasant people to say the least."

Her frown deepened. What sort of childhood had Albus Dumbledore condemned her boy to? Suddenly, she couldn't wait for him to return.

* * *

 **Yup, that's the chapter. Now, on to some questions and stuff.**

 **panther73110: Thank you, I'm glad you're liking the story thus far.**

 **Yes, Harry is indeed heir to the Potter fortune. In fact, he's even Lord Potter in name. He can't control his vault yet. An assigned goblin takes care of his finances until he's seventeen and of age. Why he's still heir will be explored in a future chapter.**

 **When Sirius was 21, he updated his will to include Harry as his heir, despite of Draco being first in line in the biological sense. At the time, he was already Lord Black as his father, Orion, had died just days after Regulus in 1979. Walburga was, up to her death, acting as Lady Regent. When she died, Sirius became sole Lord but, of course, he couldn't do anything with his title. Basically, everything is being saved for his heir, Harry.**

 **The aging potion Harry was given had a very curious effect. It aged him physically in every sense of the word. He could learn things he wouldn't be able to as a regular newborn but his overall mental capablilties stayed the same. This, too, will be explored later on.**

 **FiyoriTakeshi: Thanks to you as well. I'm glad you decided to give my story of all possible stories a chance. Believe it or not, I'm very picky when it comes to such stories as well, which does make me a giant hypocrite, lol.**

 **I basically have the end of this story all planned out. By now, I also have the ships complete. Of course, I still have write everything up but the final product is all planned out in my head and on several word documents. I won't tell you who I paired Harry with though because where's the fun in that?**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed. It means a lot! As always, please review this chapter, even if it's a filler.**


	26. Chapter 26

The climb up to Gryffindor Tower was long and tiring, as it always had been, and Neville was positively panting by the time they finally stepped off the last staircase but for just a moment, Harry's world was back to normal. For four years, the gold and crimson rooms of the tower had been his closest thing to home, despite all the things that had happened to him since he was eleven years old- or ten, rather.

"Uh, Harry," Neville said. "You don't happen to know the password, do you?"

Mentally slapping his forehead, he shook his head. The Fat Lady stared at them from inside her portrait, waiting dutifully for the word to be spoken. Harry sighed.

"Can you let us in?"

"Password?"

"We don't know the password," he admitted. "But, look, we're Gryffindors."

He pointed at the Gryffindor badge on his chest but even so, he knew it was a fruitless effort. The portraits that guarded the common rooms never let anyone into their domain without a password. He still remembered the day Neville was stuck outside in First Year. He had only been spared a night in the cold corridors, where he was sure to be caught by Filch or a professor at some point, because of the duel Harry and Ron foolishly accepted. Of course, they'd still been almost caught thanks to Draco.

"If you don't know the password, I'm not letting you in," the Fat Lady said. "Unless you know it, I suggest you scam."

She waved her hand in the direction of the stairs behind them and stared ahead expectantly as though expecting them to walk off instantly. Harry huffed and looked down over the railing of the platform, trying to estimate how many stairs they'd have walked for nothing if the Fat Lady didn't let them in. There were far more than he cared to count- or could count, really, with their constant movement- but he knew there were too many for them to just waste their time on. Trying to think of a convincing argument, he didn't notice Neville stepping forward.

"Could you please tell someone we're here? We won't come in, I promise," he looked up at her sincerely and didn't budge under her suspicion-filled eyes.

She hesitated. If the Fat Lady was a sentient person, which he knew she wasn't, he would've sworn a million ways this could backfire on her went through her head. Eventually, she nodded slowly and turned on the spot. Harry could tell she was speaking from the way her head moved but no sounds reached them. He grinned at Neville, who sheepishly smiled back at him.

The portrait swung open. Ginny Weasley stepped out, her face betraying her surprise at the sight of them. "Oh, hey, Harry. Neville. What are you doing here?"

"Are Ron and Hermione inside?"

"I think so. I'm sure I saw Ron play chess against some Hufflepuff boy. Why didn't you just come in?"

"We're not allowed, apparently," he rolled his eyes. "We didn't know the password and being a Gryffindor counts for nothing."

"Oh. Want me to go in and see if I can find them?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, Ginny."

She nodded and disappeared back inside. The Fat Lady glared down at them.

"Didn't I tell you to scam?"

"We're waiting," he snapped. "You can't forbid us from waiting here."

They still walked away a few steps to stand by the railing once more and watched as the staircases below them changed their directions routinely.

"Is it just me or is she more aggressive this year?"

Neville shrugged. "Maybe she's just unhappy about the changes that are happening. She has to let in people that weren't sorted into Gryffindor."

"Do the portraits care about that?" He asked, frowning. "Can they even care about it? I mean, they only have limited intelligence, don't they?"

"Hey! I can hear you, boy!"

Ignoring her, Neville nodded. "My gran used to say that they're a shadow. They look like the person and behave like it but they lack everything that's on the inside. It's why she doesn't want a portrait made of her. Can't say I'm not happy about it. I love her but to listen to her complain until I die is a horrible thought."

He wished Sirius' mother had chosen the same thing. He had never met a more horrid woman than her and she was only a portrait. He couldn't imagine how Sirius must've felt growing up with her for a mother.

"What's she complaining about?"

"Me," he said, blushing. "I'm not as talented as my parents, I'm embarrassing her."

"That's not true," he argued, anger rising in him. "You're a genius in Herbology and your spellwork isn't that bad either. I'm sure you'd be better in potions too if Snape wasn't such an arse all the time. Your gran should be proud of you."

Neville smiled at him gratefully but Harry could tell he didn't believe him. He turned to face him fully, trying to figure out how to best convince him, when the portrait swung open. Hermione and Ron stepped out, trailed by Ginny, and walked over to them.

"Hey, guys," he said.

Ron grinned in greeting. "Why didn't you just come in?"

He shrugged. "We didn't know the password."

Hermione frowned but didn't comment. Ginny moved past them, down the stairs, and stopped abruptly as Ron called her name.

"What?" She asked, half-yelling to be heard.

"Where are you going?"

Her face flushed with anger. "I don't have to tell you where I'm going but if you have to know, I'm meeting with Nathan and Luna."

She whirled around and stormed off. Ron frowned.

"Why is she spending so much time with Nathan?"

"And Luna," Neville added. "Nate told me he and Ginny are friends."

"You don't think there's more going on, do you? She's way too young-"

"Don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ginny's allowed to have friends."

"But a boy? She didn't care for boys last year. Besides Harry, I mean."

Hermione shook her head at him. "You can be so oblivious at times. Boys and girls can be friends without being in love. Ginny's relationships are none of your business anyway."

He snorted. "After what happened with the diary, I don't think she can be trusted with making good relationship choices."

Harry frowned and he saw Neville do likewise. "Are you saying Nathan wouldn't be a good friend for her? He's my brother, Ron."

"He's also a Malfoy."

"So am I," he said, feeling his temper rise. "What, does that mean we're not good people?"

Ron groaned. "I didn't mean it like that. We know you, we know you're a good person. We don't know Nathan though-"

"I know him," Neville glared at him. "I grew up with him. I know him as well as you know any of your brothers. Ginny can be glad to be friends with someone like my cousin."

"I didn't- you know what, just forget it. Let's go outside," he rushed off.

"He's just being overprotective," Hermione rationalized as they followed him slowly. "You know how he is. He knows Nathan's not a bad person, we all do. He wants to protect her but he's going at it very wrong. Believe me, once we catch up with him, he'll be sorry for what he said."

As always, Hermione was right. The very second they stepped outside the castle walls and took their first breath of fresh air, Ron turned around, his face ridden by guilt and embarrassment. Behind him, sitting by the lake, were Ginny, Nathan and Luna. Ginny lay sprawling on the ground, her feet dangling in the water. Her shoes stood beside her and she was holding up a book in front of her face. Luna, likewise, had decided to lie down. She was resting on her stomach, her feet up in the air. A parchment roll was spread out between her and Nathan, who was sat against a tree and was thumbing through a heavy tomb.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "I know Nathan's not evil. He's way too nice to be evil."

As they walked across the grounds to find a tree that threw sufficient shade for all of them to sit under, a tight hold around Harry's chest that he hadn't realized had been there before loosened and for the first time since arriving at school, he was able to breathe easily. Out here, after class where no one was making them do things and where they weren't subject to all the new changes Umbridge made them go along with, he could be just Harry again. No one looked at him strangely. Besides Neville, his friends had had plenty of time to adjust to his new identity and Neville took it in stride, just as Nathan had done when he'd first found out.

"Do you have homework yet?" Ron asked, plopping down and falling onto his back with a long-suffering sigh. "McGonagall gave us a three foot essay already! And then Snape's stupid essay…Don't they know it's only the first day?"

"What did you expect? It's our O.W.L. year, it's harder than normal," Hermione explained. "I only have Transfiguration and Ancient Runes homework so far."

Neville nodded. "That reminds me, Harry, McGonagall wanted me to tell you that we're supposed to write a one foot essay as well. I wrote it down, I'll show you later."

"Thanks. When do we have Transfiguration and Potions next?"

"We've Transfiguration tomorrow and, uh, Potions on Friday, I think."

He groaned and let his head fall into his lap. They only had one day to write the essay for McGonagall. He really didn't understand why she was so insistent on giving them homework already, she still had to grade their summer homework, after all. If he was a professor, he wouldn't give students any essays until he completed his grading for what they'd already handed in.

"I got a letter from my mother today," he said, trying to get his mind off the workload for now. "She sent me a picture of us the day of my birth."

"Nathan got one as well," Neville said. "You were so tiny. I can't imagine someone stealing a baby that tiny."

He nodded. "She said we were premature."

Understanding bloomed on Neville's face. "That explains a lot. Nathan did use to have health issues. No one could explain why. My gran said such problems were normal for premature babies, like my dad was, but everyone thought he'd been carried to full term."

"Most twins are born early, it's normal," Ron said off-handedly. "Fred and George were too. Mum said George was very sick for three months after he was born. We don't talk about it much and they hardly get sick now."

"I'm going to ask her about my name. I never did and I want to know."

Ron snickered. "With a name like Eoin Abraxas, I'd want to know why my parents hate me so much too."

"Shut up. I told you, Abraxas is for my grandfather. I want to know about Eoin."

"I was named for some spear that King Arthur had. Dad always did like Arthur better than Merlin."

"Probably because your Dad likes Muggles so much," Hermione offered. "King Arthur was a Muggle, after all."

"Wait, was he?"

"Honestly, Harry, you'd know these things if you'd bothered to open a book once in a while."

He rolled his eyes as Ron sat up with a grin. "That's what we've got you for, haven't we? Anyway, I knew that and I never read a book. Mum used to tell us stories of King Arthur and Merlin. There's even nursery songs."

"My favourite was _The Boy and the Sword_ ," Neville grinned. "Gran never liked nursery songs much but Aunt Aria, Nathan's mum, used to sing it to us whenever I stayed over."

He wondered if his mother used to sing for Draco. She hadn't seemed the type to sing to a child but that was before he'd seen her actually interact with Draco in private. At the time, he hadn't even known of the sickness that nearly took Draco's life and that was responsible for his own existence.

He knew she'd knitted him a baby blanket, after his birth, and had kept it for years. She'd given it to him, his first week at Malfoy Manor, and he'd packed it with the rest of his stuff. Tonks had recovered it for him after the battle. He'd never thought her the type to knit baby blankets either.

"Yeah, my mum did too. Mind, there were lots of us so Mum always told different stories. We could never agree which one we liked best."

He could imagine that. There were few enough things that all the Weasley siblings agreed on and it must have been even worse when they were children.

"Since we're Pendragon and they're Myrddin Emrys, does that mean that we're the kings and the others are our assistants?" Ron joked after they sat in silence for a while.

Harry kicked his foot lightly and grinned. "I've got brothers in that house, you know."

"Besides, I hardly think Merlin was just Arthur's assistant. I read it in a book, before Hogwarts. Merlin was considered Arthur's mentor."

"You know the story of King Arthur and Merlin in the Muggle World?"

"They made it a movie," Harry said, picking at the grass. "Dudley used to want to watch it but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never let him. They said it was rubbish. One of the few times they refused him anything. Didn't like that there was magic in it, I reckon."

"Your Muggle relatives don't like magic?" Neville asked.

He shook his head. "Not one bit. I wasn't even allowed to say that word after First Year. I just wish I could've seen their faces when they found out that their real nephew died years ago and that I'm not really related to any of them."

Ron laughed. "You and me both, mate. Their faces when we crashed through the fireplace were amazing enough but that would've been bloody brilliant!"

"If they even know already," Hermione pointed out. "They didn't know much of anything else, did they? And with Professor Dumbledore gone, who's to say they were informed?"

He blinked. He really hadn't considered that. He'd just assumed that someone would've gone to tell the Dursleys, someone from the Order. They certainly had never mentioned it back at Grimmauld Place. His mother had, however, told them of the time she met Nathan's mum, the day of the divorce, and through Andy, they'd also found out how his parents had learnt of his true parentage. The Dursleys had hardly ever been mentioned.

"At least we might still get to see their reaction then," Ron said.

* * *

 _The giant walls of the hallway loomed beside him as he slithered through them toward the single door placed at the very end of it. A murmur, an indistinguishable whisper, set himself apart from the low hissing. He strained his ears, desperate to make out even a single word the voice was saying, just one fragment of the message it was trying to send him, but the harder he listened, the harder it became to hear, to understand._

 _He slithered closer until he could make out the wooden texture of the frame and the rust of the brass knocker. He hissed at the door as viciously as he could, concentrating his power on forcing it open but it didn't so much as budge. He lowered his head until it touched the floor lightly and tried to peek underneath the door but there was only darkness to be seen through the miniscule version of a crack. The whisper grew louder and infiltrated his mind but he couldn't make out what it was telling him. Anger rose in him, anger at his helplessness and the uselessness of that whisper that couldn't even manage to bring him a simple message. Voices, human voices, sounded from afar and, hissing at the door in one last attempt, he retreated into the darkness he'd come from._

* * *

 **Right, a bit of a breather. As TonysSilverFox pointed out, things were getting quite tense. Whilst I do think that that's mostly due to the fact that I bombarded you with so many changes, I still agree. I will try to space things out more and have more chapters like this one (only better, hopefully). Truth be told, I don't like this chapter but felt it necessary to have one between the last chapter and the one that'll come next. Also a short reminder that Harry's dreams are still a thing.  
**

 **LizaMa: You'll be happy to hear that I do, in fact, have a Lucius chapter planned. Not sure when that'll come around but it will happen sometime. My two major POVs right now are Harry for Hogwarts and Narcissa for Grimmauld Place. I will have stints with Draco and Nathan and some others.**


	27. Dear Harry

**Yikes, I've got so many people to disappoint now that I've passed 300 followers. Just kidding, of course. 300 might not sound like much but for someone like me, a newbie to serious writing and publishing, it's a lot. Thank you for following, favouriting and reviewing, guys. I hope you'll stick with me until the end. It can only get better, right? (Merlin, I hope so) Yeah, anyway, on to the story. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I am glad you enjoyed yesterday's letter and picture. I'm afraid I have no more pictures to share with you, at least none that feature you or Nathan, but I can share the story of your name, as you requested._

 _In my family, most everyone is named after a constellation or star. This tradition started centuries ago when Mychel Black discovered a planet shortly after his first son was born. He named the planet Deimos after his beloved child and thus started this tradition. I myself was named after a rather insignificant, minor planet by the name of Narcissus but I always believed that your grandmother only used this planet to mask that I was truly named for a lovely flower._

 _When I was with child for the first time, I knew I was the only one who could continue our tradition. Sirius was too involved in the war to think of settling down and his brother, Regulus, died before I discovered my pregnancy. Bella was too devoted to the Dark Lord to bother lying with her husband and Andy had obviously chosen not to name her daughter according to tradition.  
Draco is named after the constellation. Lucius and I decided on his name rather quickly. He knew how important it was to me and his family didn't care for such traditions. It didn't matter to him why our first son was named the way he was. When I was pregnant with you two, however, Lucius decided that he wanted to name at least one of you. I agreed that he could name the younger twin, your brother, as long as I got to name the older one._

 _By the time I approached my fourth month, we both had settled on a name. I had chosen Deimos Cygnus, for a moon of Mars and my father. A lovely name that I wasted no time falling for. The name Lucius presented me with for your brother was Desmond Cicero. I still to this day have no idea where he got Desmond from, most likely an ancestor of his, but Cicero was to honour his late brother._

 _I disliked Desmond as much as Lucius disliked Deimos so we eventually decided to choose both of your names together. We debated long about them but by my seventh month, we were decided._

 _You were named for Eoin and Finian Mulligan. They were twin wizards of the fifteenth century, the second and third sons of Lord Seamus Mulligan and wouldn't inherit any of their family's wealth. Despite that, they rose higher than their older brother could ever hope to. They became known as two of the most brilliant wizards of the fifteenth century._

 _Eoin grew up to become a renowned Potions Master, one of the youngest there ever were, and he saved many a life with his creations. He was an honourable man and we knew that if you grew to be even a tenth of the man he was, we'd have a wonderful boy on our hands. You have far surpassed my expectations already, Harry, and I couldn't be any prouder._

 _However, Severus informs me that you, along with your brothers, have already found yourselves in trouble. You, more than anyone else, have to be more careful. You aren't protected by Dumbledore's presence anymore, you need to remember that. There are many people out for you and too many of them are at Hogwarts with you at this very moment._

 _Watch out for yourself, Harry. I could not bear losing you once more. Being without you for fourteen years was too hard the first time already, I can't let anyone take you from me again._

 _Love, your mother_

* * *

 ** **This chapter isn't really a chapter. It's more of an interlude. The proper chapter has been uploaded as well. I could've put this letter at the beginning of Chapter 27 but I really wasn't feeling it. It didn't fit, sort of. So I decided to just post it separately. I could've left it out entirely but I like it too much to erase it from existence. If there's any particular topic you'd like Narcissa to touch upon in her next three letters, you're welcome to suggest them to me. I don't know yet if I'll actually formulate complete letters or just mention them in passing but I'd still definitely consider your opinion on the matter.  
****

 ** **Fun Fact: Deimos (Dee-mos) and Desmond are the names I used when I started planning the story. I wanted to keep with the celestial theme and fell in love with the name Deimos. I then tried to find another name fitting the theme which also starts with D but couldn't find one. I wound up with Desmond as a bit of a filler. While writing Chapter 1, I decided that I absolutely could not write this story if one of the boys was named Desmond. (Sorry if your name is Desmond)****

 ** **I found Eoin when I was watching Merlin. The actor who plays Gwaine is named Eoin (Macken) and I instantly loved it. Finian I'd had in mind for a while longer. I once started another story in which I used the name Finian. Since I'd scrapped that story but still liked the name, I decided to recycle it.****

 ** **Another Fun Fact: Nathan's middle name, Bernard, is in honour of Bernard 'Bernie' Sanders.****


	28. Chapter 27

**In case you didn't see, there's two new chapters today, although the one before this hardly qualifies as a chapter. I recommend going back to read the interlude, named _Dear Harry_ , first and then coming back here. Enjoy!**

* * *

Professor Umbridge had taken over Dumbledore's office. The very thought of someone else sitting behind that desk, especially someone like Umbridge, sobered his mood and left him with a sour taste. On a logical level, he knew that it was only right for Dumbledore not to remain Headmaster. He _had_ , after all, kidnapped him and Nathan when they were only an hour old all for the sake of replacing the first Harry Potter. Harry, however, wasn't one to prefer logic to emotions and his heart was telling him that there was no one less suited for that desk than Umbridge.

Thus, when he arrived for his detention more than an hour late, he wasn't the least bit sorry. It was her fault anyways for putting him in detention when he was supposed to be in class, not his. If he'd skipped Herbology, he'd have gotten in trouble with Professor Sprout and since he liked her better than Umbridge, he'd done as Hermione advised him- he picked his battle. Granted, he supposed Hermione meant for him to play nice with Umbridge and not the other way around but he'd made his choice.

The gargoyles still guarded the office. As he walked up to them, the realization that he didn't have _this_ password either settled in. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed exasperatedly. He was getting quite tired of being locked out of places he'd previously always been allowed entry to and every time it happened, it was down to this horrible, pink woman.

"Er, pink?" he said, trying to think of any likely passwords Umbridge might choose. With Dumbledore, guessing the password had been a matter of guessing his newest favourite sweets. He didn't particularly believe that Umbridge was one to eat sweets or make them the password to her office, though.

The gargoyles didn't open the staircase for him.

"Look-" he began before being interrupted by a deep, husky voice.

"What is your purpose here?"

He startled and stared at the gargoyles with wide eyes. One of them, of that he was sure, had just _spoken_ to him. Before, all they had ever done was open and close the door to the stairs, no more. He hadn't even known they were capable of speech although he did suppose it was silly to be so surprised. In the Wizarding World, _everything_ was capable of speech.

"Uh, I'm here for my detention with Headmistress Umbridge," he said. "I'm Harry- I mean, Eoin Black."

Slowly, the door blocking the staircase moved away and Harry stepped onto the first step. It carried him upstairs, where Umbridge was already awaiting him with her hands crossed before her stomach. Annoyance crept up inside him at her patronizing eyes but he squished it down again.

"Mr Black," she said. "You're late."

He nodded jerkily. "I was in class until now."

"I expect you to inform me next time instead of letting me wait on you, young man. It's not very polite. Come in now, hurry."

The office only held a passing resemblance to how it was before. Dumbledore's mighty desk had been replaced by a white, pristine one and the bookshelves behind it have been cleaned of any dust and were almost shining. The walls had been painted a blinding pink and were covered by heaps of plates that depicted fluffy kittens that meowed at him as he moved inside the room. Fawkes' stand had been replaced by a giant mirror and huge pinks rugs covered the stone floor. Even the cosy atmosphere had left the room, replaced by an unhinged sort of craziness that Harry had no desire to explore further.

Umbridge directed him to a small desk that was crammed in one corner of the room. He dropped his bag beside it and sat in the uncomfortable chair.

"You will be writing lines for me today, Mr Black," she began, tutting when he reached for his bag to retrieve his quill and parchment. "No, no, you will be using one of my quills. It's a very special quill as I am sure you will realize."

She laid out a piece of parchment in front of him, followed by a thin, black quill. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. It was a lot longer than his and a lot sharper as well. He knew that his mother used a rather sharp quill to write but it still couldn't compare to this one- it looked like it would cut clean through the parchment if he didn't handle it carefully.

"The sentence you will be writing is 'I must not tell lies' however many times it will take for it to…sink in. You may begin now."

He stared at the parchment before him incredulous and turned to her once more. "I need ink."

She smiled at him sweetly, a gleam in her eyes, and shook her head. "No, you do not."

He frowned at her, carefully keeping his thoughts to himself, before focusing on the parchment once more. He set the tip of the quill down gently and began writing. He almost dropped the quill as a sharp pain erupted on the back of his hand and hissed at the sight of it. A glaring red _I_ , in his exact handwriting, had carved itself into his skin as though with a knife. An identical _I_ was on the parchment, the ink as red as blood.

"Is something the matter, Mr Black?"

"No," he choked out as the realization sank in. "I'm fine."

"Good. Then continue writing."

Tenderly, he wrote out the next word, biting his lips firmly to keep another hiss of pain from escaping. _Must_ had joined the _I_ on both the parchment and the back of his hand but even as he watched them, the writing faded away until his hand showed no sign of it anymore besides a rosy tinge.

He could feel her eyes on the back of his head and it was all the motivation he needed. She would never see the pain her quill caused him, never. Determined, he set the quill onto the parchment once more and continued writing his lines with ink that was not only as red as blood but was his own blood, doing his best to ignore both the pain and the nausea that set in soon. He wrote until long after dark. _I must not tell lies_ appeared on his right hand time and time again and disappeared just as often. Not once did he look up from his task or waiver in his determination to keep writing. Finally, after what felt like hours, he heard her setting down her own quill. She coughed.

"Mr Black," she said. "Come here."

Suppressing a sigh of relief, he put the quill down and walked over to her desk. She looked up at him expectantly. "Hand."

He watched as she examined his irritated hand with her thick, sausage-like fingers that were adorned by ugly, neatly polished rings. She tutted. "I see my lesson didn't sink in with you, Mr Black. Well, none the matter, we will simply try again tomorrow. You may leave now."

He pulled his hand out of her reach, hastily picked up his bag and was out the door and down the stairs before another word could be uttered.

Neville was sitting on a couch in the common room, a book in hand, and smiled at him as he entered. Besides him, everyone else seemed to have already retreated to their dorms, leaving the common room empty and silent, the only noise being the crackling of the fire that still burned close to where Neville sat.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry smiled, vaguely wondering if Neville could tell it wasn't genuine, and dropped his bag beside the couch before sitting down heavily. "Hey, Neville. You didn't have to wait up for me."

"That's alright. I was reading anyway. How was detention?"

He shrugged. "Fine, I guess. Just had to…write lines. What are you reading?"

"Oh, it's a Herbology journal. Professor Sprout gave it to me after class. She showed me some of the new plants she got over the summer too and told me I could help her harvest them in December."

"Sounds good."

Neville lowered the book and frowned at him. "Are you alright? You're looking a bit pale."

Nodding, he stood up. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'm tired."

"Alright. I'll go soon too, once I'm through with this. See you in the morning?"

"Absolutely."

As he lay in bed, cradling his still warm hand to his chest and listening to the other boys' rhythmic breathing, his mind kept leading him back to Umbridge's office, where he'd be sitting again tomorrow, carving those words into his own skin. Dread filled his entire body and once sleep came, it came fitfully.

He startled awake long before anyone else. The dorm was plunged into darkness, all the torches still unlit. Harry swung his feet over the edge of his bed and stared at the wall longingly, wishing for a window to appear and show him how long the night had yet to go before his third day back at school was to begin. No matter how hard he wished, however, the wall stayed solid and pointedly window-less. Resignation washed over him. He wasn't going to get any more sleep, that much was clear.

Armed with a roll of parchment, his quill and ink and his Charms book, Harry padded into the common room. The fire from the evening was still burning, illuminating the room just enough for him to be able to see everything clearly. He sat at the table closest to the fireplace and laid his things out before him.

Professor Connelly, the Professor meant to replace Flitwick, was nowhere near the teacher Flitwick was. Instead of doing practical work, they had only read in a book. His only redeeming quality was that the book hadn't been written for slow people and made for a half-way decent read at the very least. It still went over all the things he'd already learnt and he was already thoroughly sick of it. The essay he'd told them to write was no more than a repetition of what Flitwick had taught them way back in First Year. Sighing, he flipped his book open, rolled the parchment out and dipped his quill in the ink bottle.

* * *

"Morning, Harry," Angelina Johnson sat down beside him as he listlessly picked at his scrambled eggs. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah-"

"Great. Listen, I couldn't find you yesterday but I just wanted to tell you that I need you to come down to the Quidditch pitch tomorrow at five."

"What for?"

"Try-outs for Keeper. I've already announced it and George promised to put up an invitation on the Hufflepuff bulletin."

He frowned. Since arriving back, he hadn't spared a single thought for Quidditch. "Can we still play? With the new houses and all?"

She nodded. "Oh, yes. I talked to McGonagall, right after the opening feast. She said the teams are still as they were before. Anyway, I'll leave you to your breakfast. See you tomorrow?"

"I don't know," he said earnestly. "I've detention-"

Angelina waved her hand. "Just ask if you can come later. It'll be fine."

She walked off briskly.

"I'm glad I don't play Quidditch," Neville said. "It sounds exhausting."

He grinned but before he could form a response, Nathan had sat down in the seat Angelina had just vacated. "Hey."

"Good morning, Nate," Neville greeted, smiling. "Everything alright?"

"Yes. Has either of you seen Draco around?"

He shook his head. "Not since we left Snape's office. Why? Don't you share a common room with him?"

"I do but I haven't seen him since lunch yesterday. He didn't respond to Narcissa's letter and she asked me to see if he's alright. Any idea where he goes when he's not in class?"

"We're not friends. How would I know how he spends his free time?"

Nathan sighed. "Fine. Do you know _who_ he's friends with then? I don't want to spend the entire day looking for him just because he can't be bothered responding to a letter."

"I think I saw him eat with Zabini, Greengrass and Nott," he offered.

"Perfect. I know Astoria, I bet she'll know where her sister is."

"How do you know her?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Through Neville," Nathan said off-handedly, grabbing a piece of toast from a nearby plate and standing up. "He used to be friends with Daphne. Anyway, I'll go find Astoria. I'll see you both you later."

As soon as his brother was gone, Harry turned to Neville, whose face had flushed a deep red. "You used to be friends with Daphne Greengrass?"

"My gran went to school with Lady Greengrass," he explained. "They've been friends all their lives. Gran used to bring me along to meet Daphne and Astoria."

"But they're Slytherins!"

He shrugged. "I know. They weren't when we were children. Their parents are alright, I guess. They didn't join You-Know-Who or anything."

"Were they in the Order?"

Neville looked down, his face marred by sadness that startled Harry. "No. My Gran told me they reinstalled it this summer."

"Were- Were your parents in the Order?"

A small nod confirmed it and suddenly, Harry thought he had an idea of what had happened to Neville's parents. A lot of the people who had joined the Order had been targeted by Death Eaters. Sirius had told him of the McKinnons, who had gone extinct during the war. Names he recognized as those of classmates like Bones and Abbott and Jones had been mentioned. Ron's uncles, Mrs Weasley's two brothers, had died just before Fred and George were born, killed because of their effort in the war. Neville's parents had been Gryffindors, just like their son. They would've been brave, like Neville was even though he hardly ever got to prove it, and Harry was sure that to have a son as kind as Neville, they must've been kind people themselves. It made sense they would join the Order and it made just as much sense that they'd fall fighting for what they believed in. However, not once had Sirius so much as mentioned the Longbottoms when he was recounting the memories of those who had died.

"Do you remember them at all?" He asked. "I mean, you must've been a baby when they died."

Neville hesitated and for a moment, Harry feared he'd crossed an invisible barrier. He knew Neville didn't like to talk about it but he knew that talking about such things was supposed to help. At least that's what Hermione had told him and he usually trusted her advice.

"Harry," he finally said. "My parents- they're not dead."

He blinked. "What?"

"They weren't killed but sometimes- sometimes I wish they had," he blinked furiously as though ridding himself of tears. "They were tortured. They're at St Mungo's now, they haven't been themselves since."

With that, Neville dropped the matter entirely and Harry didn't press it further. Feelings of guilt settled onto his heart that were only strengthened by the relief he felt that Neville trusted him enough to tell him of his parents, a secret he'd kept close to his chest since they'd first met.

* * *

His second detention with Umbridge was, if at all possible, worse than the first. He sat at the small desk for hours, writing those five short words over and over again, on paper and on skin. He watched the words fade away on the back of his hand to make way for red soreness time and time again.

 _I must not tell lies_ , he wrote, near the end of the parchment roll, and briefly paused to watch the writing disappear from his hand. He waited, sure it would happen any second, and waited until Umbridge suddenly stood behind him and gawked at his hand with sadistic pleasure. The words were carved into his skin, as they had been hundreds of times before. Only this time, they did not fade.

As he fled the room, he cradled his scarred hand close. Tomorrow, he'd have to go back and do it over again. He'd have to carve the words in deeper than before, scar himself for the rest of his life more than he was already.

 _I must not tell lies_


	29. Chapter 28

**Hey, guys. Before we start, I quickly wanted to tell you that I might have to start updating bi-weekly instead of weekly. I don't want to but I'm afraid there might be no way around it. I started school again on Monday. It's my last year and therefore will probably be the most taxing. My schedule is going to kill me and I'm a tutor once a week plus I'm part of a study group. No matter how much I love this story, my schoolwork comes first. For now, I will try to stick to updating once a week and see if it's manageable or not. Just a warning. Now, enjoy!**

* * *

Since his very first detention, Harry hadn't seen a whole lot of his friends aside from Neville. He'd figured that they wouldn't spend as much time together because of Umbridge's new system but by the time he returned to the common room with his freshly scarred hand shoved into his pocket to shield it from curious eyes, he was feeling quite abandoned by them. The last he'd seen of Ron was during History of Magic. He hadn't stuck around after to talk but had immediately been off to meet Hermione in front of the Transfiguration classroom. Before, he'd arrived at lunch with Neville after Ron had stood them up to go back to the Gryffindor common room only to find that Hermione had only shown up very briefly to bundle up some food to take to the library.

He'd hardly seen his brothers either. After Nathan's brief visit in the morning, he hadn't found them again and Harry had few opportunities to run into Draco now that they didn't share any classes anymore. Yet, Harry's heart grew significantly lighter at the sight of Neville, perched on an ottoman right before the fireplace, a parchment roll in hand and chewing on a pencil. A blonde girl sat near him on the floor, a pile of discarded wrapping beside her. He raked his brain for her name but came up blank. He knew she was a girl from his year, a Hufflepuff, judging by her crest, but he'd never interacted with her before. She was in his Charms class, he remembered, and had been one of the few in History to answer a question correctly.  
Neville looked up from his work and smiled at him. "Hey, Harry."

"Hey, Neville," he sat down in an armchair and looked at the girl. Her eyes were trained on him, yet Harry had the distinct feeling she wasn't looking at _him_.

"Oh, that's Megan," Neville introduced. "Megan, this is Harry. Or- uh- Eoin."

Megan's frown deepened. "Black."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Black," she repeated. "You're Eoin Black."

"Oh. Yes, I am. I go by Harry, though."

Suddenly, she shook her head and snapped out of her trance. She offered him a small smile. "Sorry. I was just- just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

She waved her hand. "Doesn't matter. Not to you. Anyway, I'd better go and start writing my thank-you notes."

"Thank-you notes?"

She gathered the wrapping paper in her arms and dumped them in the trashcan before collecting a bunch of clothes, books and games from the floor. "Yes. My uncle always makes me write thank-you notes to everyone who got me presents or sent me cards for my birthday. It's annoying but he thinks it's impolite not to do it."

"I didn't know it was your birthday," he said unnecessarily. "Uh, happy birthday."

She smiled. "I'll write you a thank-you note."

Harry watched after her as she disappeared around the corner to the girl dormitories before turning back to Neville, who was once more reading through the parchment.

"So, uh, Megan?"

"She often helps Professor Sprout, like me. She's in at least four of our classes," answered Neville, not bothering to look up. "Maybe you should make an effort to get to know more people, especially now that we're not in Gryffindor Tower anymore."

"I guess so. Are you and her…"

He snapped his head up, flushing red. "What? No. Merlin, Harry, no! I don't like Megan like that. It's like you and Hermione, it'd be weird."

"Right. Course. Sorry," Neville nodded and lowered his head. "What're you reading?"

"Oh, it's your Herbology essay."

"What?"

"You left it on the desk. I saw that you'd gotten a few names wrong so I'm just going over it. I know you don't have much time for homework with your detentions and all."

"You don't have to do that," he sat, moving to sit next to him just as Neville lightly crossed out an entire paragraph.

"The effects you're describing here are for an entirely different plant and the complete opposite to what you're supposed to write."

"I was gonna rewrite it," he grumbled. "It's not due until next week. I just wanted it out of the way. How do you know so much about Herbology anyway?"

"Aunt Aria has a beautiful garden," Neville said. "Nathan never cared much for plants so she taught me instead. I've got my own garden now."

"I used to do garden work too," he said, watching Neville underline a word. "More of a chore really. My Aunt Petunia liked having a neat garden to show off but she didn't like working in the garden. Too filthy, she used to say."

"You must be happy that they're not your family anymore."

He nodded. "I guess. It's weird, though. I went to live with them when I was fifteen months old, I don't remember a time when they weren't the only family I'd left."

"Three months."

"Right. Three months."

He was only three months old when Voldemort came to kill him. A three-month-old baby with nothing but a mother's love to defend him. It was a horrifying thought. He'd only had three truly happy months in all his life and even then he'd been a kidnapped baby, a brother taken from his siblings. When it really came down to it, he was normal for all of sixty minutes.

"Here," Neville handed him his essay, which was now riddled with crossed out lines and added words, making it barely readable. "That should help."

"Thanks. You really didn't have to."

Neville shrugged. "It's fine. How was your detention?"

"Oh, uh, alright. Same as yesterday," he tugged his sleeve lower to cover his hand and rubbed it against his thigh. "Just lines."

* * *

Ron caught up with them just as they were getting ready to leave the Great Hall to head to the Charms classroom. His cheeks were flushed red and he was panting.

"Where've you been?" He asked, as soon as the ginger slowed to a walk beside him.

Ron's face flushed an even deeper red. "Oh, uh, the Quidditch pitch. I wanted to get some training in to, you know, the try-outs this afternoon."

"You're going to try-out for Keeper?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Will you be there?"

"No," his mood plummeted to a low. "I've got detention."

"Oh. Angelina said you'd ask if you could come later."

He shook his head. "Believe me, Umbridge won't let me do that."

He hadn't even considered asking her. It would've been of no use anyway and all it would've gotten him was a patronizing look, which he'd rather not endure more than he already had. Besides her fake sweetness, her patronizing ways were definitely the things Harry loathed most about her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of asking anything of her.

"Potter!"

A scowl almost came across his face and the snarky _'Malfoy'_ already lay at the tip of his tongue, ready to be spoken, when he remembered that the terms of their relationship had changed vastly since the last year. He turned around, facing into an empty hallway, and spotted Draco leaning against the wall with Zabini, Nott and Greengrass by his side. He nudged Neville and Ron, who hadn't heard Draco's hiss, and tugged them into the hallway.

"So is this what you're doing all day?" He asked, glancing around the hall. "Lurking around the castle and sulking?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I've been more productive than you could ever hope to be, I assure you."

"Doing what?"

"Figuring out a way to save your hide," he said. "I can't say more. Not here, where people can hear. Meet me tonight by the Potions classroom."

Ron scoffed. "Yeah, right. Where Snape will find him and put him in detention."

"Don't be more stupid than you already are, Weasley. I've got it handled. Just be there at nine pm, sharp. Bring your friends, they might come in useful for once."

"What about Nathan?"

Greengrass stepped out the shadows. "I've already talked to him."

"You?" Neville asked, frowning. "You never liked him."

She shrugged. "My feelings for him don't matter, not that they concern you in any way. He'll be there, as will his friends."

"Right. We'll be there."

Draco nodded jerkily and walked past them, his friends following close by. Just as the last of them stepped out of the hallway, Draco popped his head around the corner once more. "Don't be late and make sure to keep quiet about this."

"He's still a jerk," Ron decided. "Your brother or no. And I know about jerk brothers, I've got one of those as well."

Harry hadn't caught her himself but Ron and the twins had assured him that Mrs Weasley could often be found crying over Percy's decision to leave the family for the Ministry earlier in the summer. Narcissa hadn't cried over Draco even once, so Harry thought he had at least that going for him. Although if Ron was to be believed, the time would soon come that Draco would more than make up for that- he was sure that they were living on borrowed time and that Draco would betray them to Voldemort sooner or later. Harry didn't believe it, not anymore. He might be a jerk, and a big one at that, but he would never do anything to hurt his mother, other than Percy Weasley, who probably hadn't given his family so much as a second thought. He'd always been aiming high, even in his school days, and hadn't put up with any sort of fun. He damned it, really, and was constantly on the twins' case, telling them to quit the jokes and concentrate on their careers instead. Sometimes, Harry even thought Percy was ashamed of what others might consider a low birth. He always acted like he was born in a family of higher social standing than the Weasleys, on par with the Malfoys perhaps, and hadn't cared that his brothers and sister mocked him for it.

He fell flat on his bum as someone crashed into him and startled out of his thoughts. Cho Chang was sprawled out before him, frantically collecting her quills that had spilled out of her bag upon their fall. He picked up a roll of parchment lying by his side and held it out for her to take before standing up.

"I'm so sorry," Cho said, getting onto her feet. "I'm late for class."

He blushed. "Don't worry about it, Cho."

She blinked at him. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Yes," he said, for a short moment unsure whether she was joking or not. "It's Harry. Harry Potter."

Her eyes flitted up to his forehead and found his scar. "Oh, Harry. I didn't recognize you. You look so different now."

"That's alright. Uh, how are you?"

"Good. Um, listen, it was nice seeing you but I really am late. I- We'll talk sometime else, yes?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

He looked after her until she rounded the corner. When he looked back at Ron and Neville, who were grinning at him a deep blush crept upon his cheeks.

He hoisted his bag higher and walked past them. "Shut up."

* * *

 **Right, questions. There's been a few so I hope I don't miss any, as I do have an annoying tendency to do that.**

 **Before though, I want to point out that Megan, as well as any other students of Harry's year that might come up, are canon characters. I got Megan's name (as well as others) from JKR's list of the original forty on Pottermore, if you're interested.**

 **Dorms for the main characters:** **Hufflepuff: Harry, Neville, Dean, George**  
 **Harry,** **Neville and Dean share a dorm with Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley.**  
 **Gryffindor: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Fred**  
 **Ron and Seamus share a dorm with Zachariah Smith, Wayne Hopkins, Roger Malone and Oliver Rivers**  
 **Ravenclaw: Nathan, Luna, Draco**  
 **Draco shares a dorm with Terry Boot, Kevin Entwhistle, Theodore Nott and Stephen Cornfoot.**

 **The kidnapping is still a big thing but Harry's gotten hardly any news since the end of Fourth Year. His friends especially are careful to spare him the worst. Don't worry, it'll be a topic again sometime (soonish)**

 **Lucius is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. The public knows this. The details surrounding his arrest are hazy at best for all those not involved. The Ministry was unable to push it under the rug because the arresting Aurors (Shacklebolt and Tonks) aren't under their thumb.**

 **Black is better than Malfoy because aside from figures such as (fugitive mass murderer) Sirius Black, the name is largely associated with people like Phineas Nigellius Black, especially among intellectuals, wheras Malfoy stands for corruption, betrayal, lies and pureblood supremacy. Black also enabled Narcissa to claim Sirius' inheritance, which Harry is Heir to but too young to inherit for now. By calling Harry 'Malfoy' they are trying to discredit him. They're enunciating that he's Lucius Malfoy's son. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that.**

 **There will be no smut in this story. There will be same sex relationships though.**

 **Brotherly bonding is coming right up, I've not forgotten about it.**

 **I hope I haven't forgotten anything. If I have, please point it out to me and I'll come back to it.**


	30. Chapter 29

**Sorry for the late update! This chapter was meant to go up last Saturday but it didn't get done until this week. I would've had it up on time, I reckon, but I fell sick the Tuesday before and was completely bedridden and in no position to write until Sunday.**

 **In other news, this story is finally being beta-read by the lovely catistar. For the purpose of being considerate of their schedule, along with my own crazy life, I've decided that bi-weekly updates are inevitable at this point. I hate to do this but I'm afraid there's no way around it. It's too much of a hassle to get the chapter done and betaed in a week and I don't want this to become a chore. Updates will from now on be on every second Saturday.  
**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

"Hey, Black," Hestia Carrow's voice echoed off the stone walls of the empty corridor. He clutched his satchel tighter and gritted his teeth, not bothering with turning around until he heard Hestia and her sister come to a halt right behind him.

He squinted his eyes at the sisters, unsurprised to find them grinning back at him maliciously. When he was a child, his father used to warn him to stay away from them- they, not unlike their own father and aunt, were known for their cruel ways from their earliest days and ever since Flora had pushed him down the stairs when he was six years old, he had been careful to heed his father's words and stay clear of them. Ever since the beginning of the school year, however, they, for their part, had done their very best to torment him whenever they could and he was quickly growing tired of them.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, us?" Flora asked innocently. "We were just wondering how you were enjoying Ravenclaw Tower. Our common room is ever so quiet with you gone."

Hestia nodded. "Yes, we're missing your threats to get your dear father involved. Although, I'm guessing it wouldn't do you any good anymore, would it? Maybe you should consider threatening people with Potter. I bet they'd shudder in fear."

"They ought to," he snapped. "You ought to. He defeated the Dark Lord once and escaped him several times since. If I was on your broomstick, I wouldn't be so sure of myself."

She shrugged. "Anyway, I bet you're enjoying those book worms. Your brother is one of them, after all, you must be feeling right at home. I've even heard you're already sticking your nose in all their books."

"Why, yes, I do, thank you for noticing," he sneered. "It's more enjoyable than sharing a common room with you. My brother's face is much more pleasant to look at than yours by any means."

"He is quite the looker, isn't he? Would be a shame if something were to happen to that pretty little face of his."

His hand curled around his wand. His mother's face, marred by a smile as she looked upon Longbottom, flashed through his mind and hot anger rose in him. "I swear to Merlin, if you hurt him-"

"Relax, Black," Flora smirked. "We're only yanking your wand. We'd never harm that sweet little brother of yours."

Hestia raised her hand to her lips as Flora walked off and followed slowly. As she brushed past him, she touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek and whispered, "We'll see you soon, Draco dearest."

A shudder ran down his back that stuck with him even as the Carrows' footsteps had long worn off. _A lot like my sister used to be_ , his mother had once said of them. She hadn't meant the Blood Traitor, of course. Before they needed her pathetic help, Mother had never even mentioned the Blood Traitor's name. Her other sister was almost as rarely spoken of, but only almost. Bellatrix Lestrange, his mother's eldest sister, had been far from innocent by the time they arrested her, just a month after Potter defeated the Dark Lord. He'd never met her but he was glad for it- the tales of her were gruesome and sick and he had no desire to witness the person behind those tales. If the Carrows were even the tiniest bit like her, he wanted nothing to do with them and he certainly didn't want them touching Longbottom.

"Draco?" Blaise called from behind him. "What are you standing there for?"

He turned around. The dark-skinned boy was walking toward him, Theodore and Daphne flanking him on both sides. "The Carrows."

Daphne groaned. "What have they done now?"

They listened intently as he recounted the events of the past minutes to them. Daphne hummed thoughtfully once he finished, "Well, I wouldn't worry about them too much. Last year, when I refused to write Hestia's Potions essay, she threatened to skin Astoria alive. I think they just like to use younger siblings for leverage."

"Thank Merlin I have none," Blaise said.

"I think Merlin's not the one keeping your mother from getting pregnant," Theodore joked. "Her husbands are probably just too scared to get it up."

He rolled his eyes. Blaise's mother had taken her seventh husband during the Summer holidays. His family had been invited to the spectacle, as they had been the previous six times, but with everything happening, they hadn't even considered attending. Thank Merlin, too, because Zabini weddings got old after the third one. The betting pool was running high, however, with bets on when husband seven was going to meet his untimely end and join his predecessors- he himself had put ten galleons down for seven months.

"Well, no matter who I have to thank, I'm glad I don't have any siblings. They're too much drama. Look at Potter, he's nothing but tragedy wrapped up in a nice package."

He paused, mulling that sentence over in his head. "Did you just say Potter was handsome?"

"Not was, Draco," he winked. "He _is_ handsome."

Another shiver ran down his back. "I'd be very grateful if you didn't hit on Potter. Or Longbottom, for that matter."

Blaise grinned. "Don't worry, they're too young for me anyway."

"What, got a thing for older men?"

"Daphne!"

"What?" Daphne said, acting as though she was offended and decidedly ignoring Draco's impatient eye roll. "You said they were too young."

"They're _fourteen_. I'll be sixteen next month. If Potter was still the same age as before-"

"Enough!" He snapped. "If we don't hurry, we'll be late. I swear, if I have to listen to Potter whine because we're late-"

Daphne shook her head and started walking, grabbing his sleeve when he tried to hasten her along. "Relax. I happen to know from a reliable source that Potter is in detention with Umbridge tonight. If anyone's late, it will be him."

Reluctantly slowing down, he asked, "And who might that source be?"

"The younger Longbottom and the Weasley girl told me and they knew from the older Longbottom and Weasley."

"And you call that reliable? Salazar would be ashamed of you."

"Shut it, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes. "We might not like them but they're reliable enough. Besides, Neville Longbottom will become Lord Longbottom in a few years, you might want to consider using this chance to change his opinion of you. With Potter just three years away from Lord Potter and Nathan Longbottom up for Lord Crouch, you'd be connected excellently by the time you're twenty. It'd be easy to move from there, especially if the war ends in Potter's favour. There'd be no stopping you with him and his goons by your side."

She was right and he didn't like it one bit. In only two years' time, he would be seventeen and finally able to inherit his father's stripped title of Lord Malfoy. That alone would give him access too much influence and power, of course, but within one year of his birthday, it would be the twins' coming of age and then they'd come into their inheritance as well. Lord Crouch wasn't nearly worth as much as Lord Potter, certainly, but it was still respected enough and through those two, he might gain even more of an advantage. Lord Longbottom would raise the dunderhead's status and make him worth considering an alliance with- a move worthy of Salazar Slytherin. With the Lords of Longbottom and Potter behind him, he could easily rid the Malfoy name of any dark associations; everyone knew those houses were as light as could be. Barty Crouch Senior had made a name for himself as an enemy of the Death Eaters, his heir could only be expected to follow in his footsteps. A genius plan that he would have to be stupid to simply dismiss. Still, he wasn't at all pleased with the thought of befriending his brothers and Longbottom.

"I know," he said sullenly, even though he had never given a thought to his future political affairs yet. "Still, I hardly consider either of the Longbottoms or Weasleys reliable. They're fools."

Daphne shrugged. "They're loyal fools. That's all that matters in the end, isn't it?"

He spotted Longbottom and his friends standing opposite the door that led to their Potions classroom, their platinum and ginger hair standing off greatly against the dark wall behind them. Even though the two girls by his brother weren't the tallest of people themselves, he noted that Longbottom still was only barely of an height with Lovegood, the crazy lunatic he had taken a liking to. When he was fourteen, he was one of the tallest boys in his year and had been taller than several boys from the year above them since he was twelve. Just another thing that marked him as different, as raised by outsiders. If only Mother could see Potter and Longbottom for what they were, he wouldn't have to bother with any of this.

Sighing, he stepped forward, into Longbottom's eye line and ignored the way Weasley immediately started to glare at him with as much fierce as she could muster in that pathetic little brain of hers.

"I see Potter is late."

"He's in detention," Longbottom said. "Daphne was meant to tell you."

She nodded. "I have. Draco simply doesn't know how to say hello."

"Do you know when he will be here?"

"He'll be here as soon as he can," Weasley snapped.

"Careful, Weasley," he sneered. "Your crush is showing. If you don't watch out, you'll burden Potter with as many brats as your mother did to your pathetic father-"

Weasley immediately shot forward. Her hands nearly managed to curl around his collar when Longbottom quickly pulled her back and took her spot in front of him.

"You want something from us, don't forget that," he said. "One wrong word and we'll leave and we'll tell Harry and the others to leave too."

He gritted his teeth and nodded jerkily. He wanted nothing from them- if he had his way, he would never see either of them again. It was their fault, after all, that his father was rotting away in Azkaban and that her worry was eating his mother up alive. Once the war was won, all he had to do was maintain relations good enough for him to draw advantages from- he wouldn't have to bother with any of this nonsense then.

"Everything alright?"

Potter came to a halt a few feet away from them, flanked by Granger, Weasley and Longbottom.

"Peachy," he said. "About time you showed, I don't have all night."

Potter rolled his eyes. "We came as soon as we could."

"Certainly. Follow me."

He led them to a nearby classroom that was mostly unused these days. Severus had specifically pointed it out to him and assured him of the safety of the space. The cabinets, once upon a time filled with potion ingredients, had long been emptied and wiped and all tables and stools had been pushed against the far wall, leaving a big open area in the middle of the room. Grabbing a stool, he motioned for the others to join him in the middle. A hustle ensued as everyone went to secure themselves a chair and the older Longbottom almost knocked Blaise over in his attempt to pull a stuck stool out from underneath a table. Once everyone had gathered, he clasped his hands in his lap.

"I think we can all agree that Umbridge is an inept teacher at best."

"The words you're looking for is incompetent and utterly ridiculous," Granger interrupted. "Inept is too light a description."

Trying to control the sneer he felt coming on, he continued, "No matter which words we use to describe her, she can't be trusted to adequately prepare anyone for the war."

"She denies You-Know-Who is back," Longbottom the younger offered. "Someone mentioned it to her and she just waved him off."

Male Weasley nodded. "She put Harry in detention for insisting he's back."

He noticed Potter tugging the sleeve of his robe over his right hand, a nervous habit no doubt, and nodded. "Precisely. I don't presume to know about you, but I plan on surviving this war and continuing my family line. Mother would very much to like _you_ ," he looked at the twins pointedly. "to survive as well. My godfather doesn't seem to expect both of you to make it through the war and I think we all know who he means."

"Did you ask us to come here to tell us that bloody Snape thinks Harry will die?" Male Weasley snapped. "The git will probably try to kill him himself, he'd know-"

"My godfather will do no such thing. Sit down, Weasley, and shut your presumptuous mouth for once. Mother would be devastated if even one of us three doesn't see the end of the war. She's suffered enough while you were gone, she doesn't deserve to grieve the loss of a son," _even if that son was Potter_. "I propose a study group, of sorts. If Umbridge won't prepare us, we have to do so ourselves."

"I agree," Granger said quickly. "I've been playing with the same thought, I just hadn't had time to tell Harry and Ron yet. I was thinking we could ask some more people too, like Dean or-"

He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? There's strength in numbers-"

"Which is why I invited you as well and not just Potter and Longbottom. Our numbers are great enough as it is. Any more and they will start to burden us and slow us down."

Female Weasley huffed. "Our friends need the help just as much as we do."

"Then they should find themselves a study group of their own," Daphne shrugged. "If we invite everyone, we're _asking_ to be found. You're deluding yourself if you think Umbridge won't try to shut this down if she ever figures out what we're doing."

"Us meeting can be explained away. Brotherly bonding, interhouse connection brought on by family ties, an excuse can easily be found. Add a dozen or so of your _closest friends_ and coming up with a convincing tale won't be nearly as simple."

"That may be the Slytherin way of doing things but _we_ won't let our friends go into a war unprepared," Female Weasley insisted. "Or our brothers."

"Invite your brothers if you must," Theodore said. "Daphne will bring her sister as well, it's only fair if you get to bring your brothers. But we can't risk more than that."

As Potter shifted in his seat, a flash of red caught Draco's eye very briefly before it disappeared underneath his sleeve once more. He frowned at the hidden hand. Had Potter accidentally hurt himself and was embarrassed about it? He certainly wouldn't put it past him- the sleeve moved once more. This time, the redness was impossible to miss. As quickly as he could, he shot up from his chair and across the circle and grasped Potter's wrist. There, written in a scrawled, untidy writing were five words etched into the skin covering the back of his hand. _I must not tell lies_.

Potter pulled his hand away and stuffed it into his pocket, his face flushing a deep red. Draco similarly, felt the heat creep up on him, although he doubted the reason was the same.

"Who did this?"


	31. Chapter 30

His godson and his wayward brothers appeared at his door just after the beginning of curfew, their faces red from the cold dungeon corridors. Potter stood slightly behind Draco and Longbottom, for once not seeking to be the centre of attention but to blend into the darkness instead. The other two boys looked at him with almost identical expressions of determination, looking more like brothers than ever before.

"I hope you realize you have broken your curfew," he said as he led them into the living room. "This better be urgent."

"It is," Draco assured him, sharing a glance with Longbottom. "Potter, show him."

For a few seconds, Potter didn't move. He sat in his seat tensely, his eyes fixated on the stone floor beneath him. Only when Longbottom nudged him sharply did he react to the demand. With shaking hands, he grasped his right sleeve and pulled it up his arm. His hand, previously hidden underneath the cloth, was irritated and marred by angry red cuts, freshly applied if his eyes did not trick him. _I must not tell lies_ was written upon the boy's skin in his barely legible handwriting and for a moment, he considered whether he had done the damage himself.

Longbottom tore his gaze away from the cuts. "He had detention with Umbridge. She made him use a quill that cuts into the user's hand to draw blood as ink."

"You foolish child," he chided. He sat down on the edge of the table that stood before the twins and took the boy's hands within his own to inspect the cuts closer. "Why did you not refuse to write with such a quill?"

Potter didn't answer but the shaking in his hand talked plenty. He was scared, terrified even. He had never made wise choices when scared, his previous four years at school were a testament to this. Most likely, he hadn't even made the decision to inform someone himself. By Draco and Longbottom's expressions, it had been one of them who discovered the cuts and demanded to bring it to another professor's attention. It must have been Draco, he mused. Had it been Longbottom, he would've taken Potter straight to Minerva. Draco gravitated toward him the same way his colleague's grandson gravitated to her, only he would've even mentioned getting him involved.

Sparing a glance for Potter's twin, he said, "Have you spoken to your grandmother yet?"

The boy shook his head. "I'll talk to her first thing tomorrow morning. I wanted to go now but Draco said it'd be best if we came here instead."

"He was right. What do you know about this quill?"

"Next to nothing," he said. "Harry didn't say much. It's very sharp, like one of those knives muggle doctors use to cut people open. He wrote with it on parchment but the words appeared on his hand anyway."

No quill was supposed to be as sharp as a scalpel, although Severus truly doubted the truth of Longbottom's statement. The boy had never seen or touched one in his life, having never required medical attention beyond his struggles as a newborn babe, and didn't know that a quill sharpened to such an extent would cut clean through the parchment as well as Potter's skin. Still, it must have been only slightly less sharp to inflict such wounds to the boy's hand. The cuts were deep and clean, too much so to have been caused by any sort of blunt point.

"How long have you been in detention for, Potter?"

The boy shrugged and mumbled, "Three days."

"You have been going back for three days? One would think you enjoy being a tragic hero-"

"I don't enjoy being bullied by my teachers," Potter snapped hotly. Severus' mood soured farther. That boy didn't know the first thing about bullying. A pampered little prince who had probably never encountered hardship before his first year and grew up beloved and adored by Lily's sister.

He stood up abruptly and walked over to a nearby shelf to retrieve a salve before applying it to the cuts roughly.

"I promised your mother that I would watch out for you," he said, his mind wandering to a time he whispered to Lily's body and promised her to look out for the baby crying in his crib with blood running down his face. "Therefore, I forbid you from entering Headmistress Umbridge's office by yourself. All three of you, do you understand me? In the meantime, I will inform your mother in the morning. Longbottom, I expect you to fill in your grandmother as soon as possible and _discreetly_. Is that clear?"

They were almost out of the door again, as swiftly as they had arrived, when Longbottom turned around with a confused look on his face. "Sir, a quill like that shouldn't exist, should it? Blood magic is dark magic, only the Goblins are allowed to use it."

"Potions Masters have permission to dab with blood magic as well," he corrected. "If you had ever bothered to pay attention, you would know that some potions require small amounts of blood. However, you are correct. Blood magic is illegal for everyone else, including our new headmistress."

"Does that mean we can get her fired over this?"

He paused. "Perhaps."

 _Not without a fight_ , he thought, closing the door behind the boys. That fool of a Minister liked to close his eyes to things he did not like- his little goon and her blood magic would be no different, of that he was sure. They would need more than just the testimony of Potter, at least whilst he was still being shunned by the public. Until then, there was little they could do to properly stop her.

Sighing, he sank into the armchair by the fireplace. Since Umbridge's suggestion of combining two houses to form one, he had been responsible for the well-being of roughly six hundred children and that by itself was a task tedious enough without having to play sitter for Narcissa's boys, two of whom were more trouble than they were worth. Potter especially could never hope to make up for all the problems he had caused. That boy, despite sharing no more of James Potter's blood than Draco did, was exactly like him in all ways imaginable- rude, arrogant and entitled. A spoiled brat if he'd ever seen one.

It was getting harder by the day to remember Lily's sacrifice when he looked at the boy. Before, all it took was a glimpse at the child's eyes to remind him of her. When he looked at him now, he saw an aristocratic boy, a stranger by all means, stare back at him defiantly out of blue eyes tinged with specks of green. The gleam inside them hadn't changed. Still arrogant and haughty, as though the entire world had been created to serve him.

And Merlin be damned, sometimes it did feel as though the boy was right. Most figures of authority certainly seemed to bend to his will, almost as if opposing him would cause him physical harm. He had more people willing to give their lives for him than Severus thought fair. He had already forced Lily into submitting to death. His beautiful, precious Lily with her flowing red hair and the vivid green eyes. His one true friend, the love of his life.

He had been angry when she chose Potter over him. His heart had ached somewhat terribly when he first heard that she was carrying his bully's baby and he had almost trashed his entire study when news of her child's birth reached him. And then, a mere fifteen months later, she had been dead and gone and for many years thereafter, he had blamed Harry Potter. Yet, Harry Potter was dead. He had died before his replacement had been born. His Lily had survived her child, who would have surely grown up just as rotten as the other one if not more so, and she should have survived the war. She _would have_ survived had the Malfoy twins never breathed upon this earth or had Albus simply accepted that Harry Potter wasn't the Chosen One. Had Eoin Malfoy never entered his Lily's life, she would still be alive.

So when he looked into the boy's eyes, he focused on the green specks within them and tried to imagine Lily's emeralds instead and reminded himself forcefully of the sacrifice his love had made to keep that boy alive. He reminded himself of the promise he had made her as he cradled her dead body in his arms, her crying not-son only a few feet away in his crib. _I will keep him save._

The boy would die. There was no doubt. People would sing his praises and worship his name but he would be dead before his twentieth birthday. Until then, he would keep him save. For Lily.

* * *

"I still don't see why we needed to tell Snape of all people," Harry grumbled. "He's probably having a good laugh now."

"No, he's not," Draco said, the roll of his eyes almost audible. "It was the only sensible thing to do. Severus will inform Mother, Longbottom will inform McGonagall. They'll handle the rest."

Nathan nodded. "He's right, Harry. This isn't something we can do ourselves. That's what we've got adults for."

He scoffed. He'd tried to tell adults when he was younger and they either never believed him or just didn't care enough to do something. He'd tried to tell them about the Dursleys and his cupboard under the stairs when he was seven years old. He'd tried to tell Dumbledore that he didn't want to go back four years later. McGonagall hadn't believed him when he attempted to warn her about Voldemort in First Year. Adults couldn't be relied on- Nathan and Draco had just never learnt that.

"What if they can't do anything?" He asked. "Umbridge will only hate me even more."

"Potter, you really don't know the first thing about the Wizarding World. Your friends and mine are probably writing to their parents at this very moment. Mother will know in the morning and so will Longbottom's parents. Once they spread the news, Umbridge will have at least a dozen Lords and Ladies demanding her arrest. Even an idiot like Fudge can't ignore that."

"He was fine with ignoring Voldemort's return."

"Because he's scared," Nathan said. "You-Know-Who is the embodiment of death and Fudge is a coward. _Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once_. If he read more Shakespeare, he'd know that."

"Shakespeare?" Draco asked, confused. "Who is that?"

"A muggle play writer. They refer to him as the Bard, he was quite brilliant."

A sneer formed on Draco's lips. "He was a muggle. I'd hardly refer to that as brilliant."

"Just think of him as the Muggle equivalent of Nathanael Latimer."

Harry hadn't heard that name before but he was sure Hermione would be able to list every one of his works. He did know Shakespeare, however. In Sixth Grade, they read a few excerpts from several of his plays. Harry himself hadn't found him all that brilliant but his works hadn't bored him to death either.

"Yes, well, as I've said, Fudge will have to at least fire her if he doesn't want the Lords and Ladies to stage an uprising."

"An uprising? Isn't that a bit extreme?" Once, in second grade, Aunt Petunia had written a complaint about one of his and Dudley's teachers who insisted that Dudley needed to lose some weight and pushed him harder than any other student during gym. That was the furthest she ever went- he really didn't think an out-of-line teacher warranted a proper uprising.

"Not at all. The last time such a great amount of heirs attended Hogwarts at once was fifteen or so years after Grindelwald fell. Lords and Ladies tend to sire children when their line is threatened by war. If we tell them of the danger Umbridge poses to their heirs, they won't stop until she has been permanently removed. Trust me, I've been taught such things since I first learnt to talk."

"Fudge only holds the office because he's got the support of the big houses," Nathan reasoned. "He's already lost some of his reputation for his involvement with Malfoy. He can't afford to lose any more of them. He'll _have_ to get rid of Umbridge."

He separated from them by the Grand Staircase and watched them start the walk up to Ravenclaw Tower in total silence. Anxiety bubbled inside his stomach. He wished, with all his heart, that Draco's plan would work out but he had learnt long ago not to rely on wishes.


	32. Chapter 31

When Narcissa walked down the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place on September 5th, she was merely hoping to find something edible that Sirius hadn't yet devoured. She rarely slept in so late but yet another restless night had tempted her into taking a nap that lasted well into the morning. Even Sirius, who routinely didn't get up before the sun stood high on the sky, had already left his room by the time she woke up for good.

As she neared the kitchen, she felt a headache creep onto her. Molly and Sirius' voices echoed through the hall, once more engaged in a shouting match. She loathed their constant fighting. Had they just kept to topics that didn't concern her, she wouldn't have bothered with them. So far, they seemed to make it their mission in life to involve her in their fights, however, by throwing in one short, five letter word- Harry.

She understood that they both cared greatly for her son, was even grateful for it. Molly had loved the boy as one of her own from the beginning, during a time Harry didn't know maternal love, and Sirius held an undying loyalty for him. They were important parts of Harry's life and yet, they always seemed to forget one thing- he wasn't their son. By the way they fought over him, one would think Harry was a child caught in a fierce custody battle. They clashed on every topic imaginable- should he become a part of the Order, should they tell him of the prophecy and the Dark Lord's plans for it, did he need extra training that went beyond what he was taught at Hogwarts.

 _The prophecy_. She had first heard of it a few days ago. Sirius had been glad to tell her all about it, everything he knew flew from his mouth as his eyes settled on the fuming Molly provokingly.

" _Dumbledore said not to tell her,"_ Molly had snapped.

Personally, Narcissa thought Dumbledore could go to hell with his orders and Molly, nice woman she was, could follow him right away if she insisted on keeping information from her.

"It's not save anymore!" Molly screeched, slapping a piece of paper down on the table just as she entered the kitchen.

"And they're saver here where they'll learn nothing but how to clean a closet?" Sirius gestured to a nearby chest of drawers angrily. "They _need_ to be at school."

"Not when they're being abused by their teachers-"

"Abused?" She asked, immediately drawing their attention. "What happened?"

Molly's anger vaporised at once as she bustled over. "Narcissa, dear, I do hope we haven't woken you-"

"Not at all, I was on my way downstairs when I heard you. Now, what happened?"

"The new headmistress made Harry write with his own blood," Sirius said quickly, picking up an envelope and shoving it into her hand. "A letter from Snivellus. I reckon he'll tell you what I just told you, only with more grease stains."

Frowning at her cousin's snide remark, she sat down in her usual seat by the far wall and broke the wax seal. In the past, Severus' letters had always been short and clipped, mostly to inform them of Draco's misconducts or achievements. She could scarcely remember every letter she'd received that informed them of yet another fight Draco had gotten into with Harry and his friends. This time, the letter was wordy and almost thrice the length.

 _Narcissa,_

 _Late last night, Draco led Finian and Eoin_ \- Narcissa shook her head. Although Severus was careful not to insult either of the twins where she could hear him, his special dislike for Harry shone through clearly by the way he always named Nathan first when everyone else, including herself, listed them in order of birth. – _to my chambers. Eoin proceeded to show me cuts on the back of his right hand that spell out the words 'I must not tell lies.'. He himself wasn't willing to tell me about how he acquired these cuts but Finian informed me that the boy had been in detention with Headmistress Dolores Umbridge. According to him, she made Eoin use a sharpened magical quill which drew on his own blood as ink and carved the words he was writing on parchment into his skin. I have forbidden all three boys from entering her office by themselves but I have no doubt she will attempt to put Eoin in detention once more sooner rather than later._

 _I have also told Finian that he is to inform his grandmother of the incident. By the time this letter reaches you, I am confident he will have completed his task or at least be within the act of completing it. Once I meet with Minerva to further discuss the situation, I will be able to give you more details._

 _Thus far, I have determined that the use of corporal punishment is not part of Umbridge's jurisdiction. There were no laws passed that would allow this to happen. Furthermore, I could find no record of the invention of such a quill. I suspect she has invented it herself for this very purpose._

 _For the time being, I believe it will be best if the boys stay where they are. As Head of House Myrddin Emrys, and I am quite sure Draco has informed you of this development, I have both Draco and Finian as members of my house and can prevent them from having to complete any detention with Umbridge should the need arise. Minerva will likely do the same for Eoin. To ensure their permanent safety, however, we need to find a way to have Umbridge removed from her position. I suggest rallying the Lords and Ladies of attending heirs and scions, and perhaps even further removed spares. Of course, we will need more proof than simply the word of a fourteen-year-old who is viewed as a liar by the public. Minerva and I will arrange something. Until then, perhaps you ought to contact Lords and Ladies bound to believe you- such as Lord Greengrass, Lady Zabini and Lady Longbottom. I suspect either Finian or Minerva will contact Acting Lord Crouch in the near future._ \- She frowned. She hadn't given much of a thought to her youngest son's adoptive parents. She knew Nathan missed them a great deal and that he would likely view them as his true parents but it hadn't occurred to her that he might contact them as soon as he could.- _I will do my best to keep them out of trouble and will inform you as soon as Minerva and I have worked out the details of this plan._

 _Severus_

As soon as she placed the letter on the table, Molly piped up, "Surely you'll agree that it'd be for the best to take the children out of school-"

She shook her head. She wished she could just take all three of them out, maybe enrol them in a different school or just home school them as the Longbottoms used to do with Nathan but Severus was right. The boys needed to be in school. Even if they didn't learn much, their time at Hogwarts would be valuable to form alliances. In a war, alliances were simply not optional.  
"Molly, I won't tell you what do with your children but mine will stay at school."

"Narcissa-"

Sirius grinned broadly. "I agree, Cissy."

"Narcissa-"

"Molly," she said firmly. "I appreciate everything you have done for Harry but you need to remember that he is no longer an orphan boy. He has a family now and as his mother, I say he's to stay in school along with his brothers."

The plumb woman's lips thinned. "I've taken care of that boy for years now-"

"And as I've said, I appreciate it and I know Harry does too, but that boy is _my_ son. I don't tell you how to raise your children. I would appreciate it if you didn't attempt to tell me how to raise mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I suppose I should try to locate my son's adoptive parents. Sirius, would you mind flooing over to Andy's for me and ask her if she happens to know where I might find them whilst I get ready?"

"Not at all, dear cousin," he beamed at her and bounded off at once. Startled by his enthusiasm, Narcissa suddenly remembered that ever since his return to his childhood home, Sirius had been confined to its boundaries- something that was sure to drive his already confounded brain mad.

She was almost out of the door again when she turned back. "Are your children alright? Severus only mentioned my sons."

"Oh, yes, they're alright. Ron and Ginny both wrote that none of them had been in detention with the new headmistress."

She nodded. "I will tell Severus to keep an eye on them or at the very least have him pass the massage to Professor McGonagall."

Molly smiled at her relieved. "Thank you, dear."

"Not at all," she said. "It's the least I can do after everything you and your family have done for my child."

Sirius returned minutes later, displeased at having been forced to go back so soon, and handed her a small note containing a floo address.

"She said they'd be home now," he said before going off to find Lupin, who'd had made himself scarce the past few days, claiming he was feeling quite ill. Sirius had informed her that the full moon was only less than week away and that oftentimes, Lupin would find himself getting sick in the days, sometimes even weeks, leading up to his transformation. Narcissa had made sure not to accidentally disturb him. She had seen Fenrir Greyback's transformation a handful of times and even though she still thought werewolves had no place around children- hers specifically- she wouldn't want to make one feel even worse than they already did around that time of the month.

She stepped in front of the fireplace in the family room and dug her hand into the floo powder. Taking a deep breath, she stepped in, said the address as loud and clearly as she could and threw the powder on the ground. When the smoke cleared again, she stepped out onto the worn hard-wood flooring of a small, homely living room. Directly opposite the fireplace was a beige couch and, standing before it, Aria Longbottom, holding tightly onto the arm of a man that looked startlingly like her son's glamoured form. He was kind-looking with dirty blonde hair, a thin face and crinkles around his eyes. Yet, his eyes held no kindness for her. He was staring at her icily and without the tiniest shadow of a smile.

"Mrs Longbottom," she said, nodding at Aria. "Mr Longbottom."

Kelvin didn't return her nod. "What are you doing here?"

"I know you don't want me here-"

"You know nothing," he hissed, wrapping one arm around his wife's shoulders. "If you did, you wouldn't have had the nerve to show up in our home after taking our son from us-"

She frowned. She'd had hoped that she could avoid having this particular conversation. Maybe it was because she didn't appreciate having the blame paced upon her but, in all reality, Narcissa knew she'd just been eager to skip the hurt inside her son's adoptive parents' eyes as they were faced by the person that took their only child away from them.

"Mr Longbottom, Nathan was only removed from your care because his placement with you has been illegal in the first place. He's been kidnapped from me. Surely you can understand a mother's desire to have her child back with her? I don't want to invalidate your relationship with Nathan. You've raised him for fourteen years, he's your son just as he's mine, which is exactly why I'm here."

"Well, enlighten us then. What could you possibly want from the people who viciously kidnapped your child?"

The bitterness Kelvin expressed was vastly different to the anger she had gotten from Aria the day they first met. He, whilst certainly angry and yearning for the child he loved and raised for so long, was bitter above all. Bitter that he had been branded a kidnapper by the world. Bitter that no one seemed to appreciate the effort, the tears and the sweat it took to raise a baby into a young man and bitter that there were few enough souls that cared about the fact that he was simply a father who had lost his son.

Aria's anger she could deal with. She'd experienced it herself, over and over during the years her sons had been missing from her life. She could easily sympathise with their need to be with Nathan and the heartbreak they felt now that he wasn't with them anymore. She'd never experienced such bitterness. Lucius had, so often that she'd lost count. He'd been frustrated with his father when Abraxas focused on grooming him to become Lord Malfoy before Cicero's body had been lowered into the ground. When the Healers told them that they could do nothing to save their firstborn's life, he had even bloodied his own hands in frustration and anger while bashing them into the nearest wall. Before he grew resigned, almost two years after she gave birth for the second time, she'd always been able to see the frustration in his eyes whenever he came home from the Ministry with no news of the twins. And yet, no matter how often she found her husband frustrated out of his mind, she'd never learnt how to deal with it. The frustration of a son, a brother and a father had always and would always pose a mystery to her.

"I need your help to keep my sons safe."

"To keep _your sons-_ That's rich," he laughed. "First you take our son and make everyone believe we're some evil, heartless people and then you come here and demand that we help you do something we had successfully been doing for almost fourteen years-"

She folded her hands in front of her. "I never meant to place Nathan in harm's way."

"Well, what did you think would happen? You exposed him for everyone to see! He's known as the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived now, everyone who ever followed _him_ will want to see Nate dead! Nymph told us all about the attack on your manor and the way you barely got our baby out there alive. Had he been with us, he would've never been in danger. He's only fourteen years old, for Merlin's sake! He's a boy!"

"I did what I thought was right. I don't regret finding him, I never will regret it. However, I realise that I can't keep him save by myself. _I need your help_. If you want to see Nathan- if you want to see your son survive this war, we need to work together."

Kelvin hesitated and by the time he finally opened his mouth to respond, Aria had already made up her mind and beat him to it. "We can't help unless you tell us what happened. I assume it's to do with that horrid Umbridge woman? Nate only called her a walking nightmare in pink in his letters."

She nodded. "Indeed. This morning, I received a letter from Severus Snape. As you surely know, he is the Potions Professor at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Kelvin said, sitting down on the couch behind him and, after giving her a weary once-over, gesturing for her to sit in a nearby armchair. "He used to teach Nate before he decided it was a waste of his time."

"He has very little patience for those not naturally gifted in his arts. Anyhow, what most people don't know is that he is also Draco's godfather. He's been watching out for my son at school since his First Year and this year, he promised me he'd keep an eye out for Harry and Nathan as well. In his letter, he informed me that my middle son, Harry, has been in detention with Dolores Umbridge and that that woman made him write with a quill that used his blood for ink."

Startled silence followed her words. Aria blinked and sunk into the couch besides her husband, who, in turn, was staring at her unblinkingly. Finally, she snapped out of her trance. "Nathan? Is he alright?" And then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "How is Harry doing now?"

"Nathan is fine. He hasn't been in detention with her and Severus assures me that he will deflect all and any detentions he may earn with her. Thankfully, Nathan is particularly well protected with Severus as his Head of House and Professor McGonagall for a grandmother. Be that as it may, I wouldn't want to rely upon this protection. Umbridge could very well remove both Severus and your mother from their positions with no questions asked. We need to have her removed before she can do that."

Kelvin nodded. "Of course. I'll send an owl to my cousin right away. Neville will probably already be on it but I'd best make sure."

"Amelia will be enraged to hear of this," Aria chimed in. "I assume the Weasleys already know, Mum told me their youngest boy is Harry's best friend."

"Molly is aware," she said. "Severus could not tell me much but if I know my Draco at all, I would presume he has told his own friends as well as Harry and Nathan's friends to contact their parents. I'm good friends with Lady Greengrass. Her daughters are both friends with Draco."

"My colleague, Connor, is Lady Zabini's latest husband. Her boy's in Slytherin with yours, isn't he?"

For the next hour and half, Narcissa sat with her son's adoptive parents, listing off name after name before crossing almost half of them again. Faint memories of her time in Slytherin House lingered in the back of her mind, a time when it was hardly unusual to see a group of people sitting around a table, plotting one sneaky plan or another. She herself had been involved in many such plans- she hadn't been a snake for nothing, after all, and had more than once proven her worth to her fellow students. It was during one such event that she had caught Lucius' attention for more than just being a Black sister. The look of astonishment he'd had on his face, the Seventh Year that had captured her young heart, was one she would never forget, nor did she want to. The boy he had been back then was the one she'd fallen in love with. That boy was the person she wanted to remember Lucius for, not the evil deeds he had committed in the years since Cicero joined the Light and was killed for his efforts.

Kelvin pushed his reading glasses higher and looked the list over. "Right. I think that's all of them."

"Not very many, are there?" Aria asked sceptically.

Narcissa sat up straighter and subtly stretched her aching back. "There will be more, don't worry. Once we have a bigger group to support our claim, the other Lords and Ladies won't be far behind. We just need someone they believe they can trust."

"It's almost noon," Kelvin said with a glance to the clock. "I expect Nate's letter will reach us any minute now."

"Before- what was Nathan's name before he was taken?" Aria asked out of the blue. She tilted her head and looked at her with unrestrained curiosity.

"Fintan?"

"Finian," she corrected. "After Finian Mulligan. It means fair. We always meant to call him Fin for short."

She had been ecstatic when they had first stumbled over Eoin and Finian Mulligan. She'd fallen in love the second she heard those names and she had never fallen out of love with them. She could see the boys who would've worn those names vividly when she closed her eyes at night, especially now that she knew Harry and Nathan. Eoin, her brave little soldier who would jump in front of his brothers to defend them when anyone dared to pick fights with them. Fin, the tiny boy who would find joy in the words of others and who would absorb the wisdom of others for himself to use. Eoin and Fin, the twin brothers who were invincible. Those were the boys she reckoned her sons might have been in their early years. She wished, with all her heart, that she could've been with them when they were that young. Instead, a pair of ungrateful Muggles had gotten to watch Eoin grow up and had certainly done their part regarding her child's low sense of self-worth. She sighed wistfully. If Harry had at least grown up with the Potters, whom she knew loved her son like they loved their own, he would've known a mother's love long before he met Molly and James Potter would've ingrained an enormous amount of self-worth inside his head.

Looking at the Longbottoms sitting opposite her, she once more realised how thankful she should be. Dumbledore could've placed her youngest son with absolutely anyone but instead of trapping him with people like those Muggles, he'd given him to a family that loved and adored him and that had nurtured his mind and body.

Yes. She ought to be thankful.


	33. Chapter 32

By noon of the following day, Nathan was thoroughly exhausted. He had risen with the sun that morning, as he knew his grandmother made a habit of doing, and he had left the common room the very minute curfew had ended at six o'clock. Everyone else residing in Ravenclaw Tower was most likely still fast asleep and the entire way down to his grandmother's office, he yearned for his heavenly bed and the thick comforters that shielded him from the ever growing cold. He could feel the morning chill travelling through the castle halls and even his thickest sweater couldn't prevent it from digging into his bones.

His grandmother had been surprised to see him that early in the morning, to say the very least, but he knew she looked forward to his every visit. She had ushered him inside and wrapped him up near the fireplace swiftly and presented him with a light breakfast. While they ate, they talked about things of no consequence, as they used to before everything had changed so suddenly, and afterward, she listened to his tale patiently and attentively, only interrupting his flow to ask questions where his narrative fell short. Even so, the castle was already bustling with life when he left the office once more with a quick promise to stay safe and be smart.

The walk to the common room itself took a decent amount of time- he was quite sure the food his grandmother had stuffed into him was slowing him down- and the letter he had quickly penned almost impossible to decipher but legible enough that his parents would know what to make of it. Zeus had flattered off happily and he had sunken into the nearest armchair, ready for the day to be over.

Hogwarts was far too busy for his liking. When he had visited the castle before, when he was just a small boy, it had always been quiet and calm, all the students off for the holidays and only the odd teacher staying back to get some work done. He hadn't expected the noise that came with sharing a bedroom or the nuisance that was a public library, where he could never be sure whether he'd be able to find the book he wanted or whether they even stocked it- they had educational tomes aplenty but try as he might, he hadn't yet been able to locate a single book written for recreational purposes by a muggle author. It was a shame. The muggles were far more creative than his wizarding kin out of pure necessity. Wizards just didn't _need_ as much imagination- why would they? Whilst the muggles still dreamt of dragons and mermaids, they were perfectly normal to everyone who knew of their world. There was no need for them to come up with new attributes unicorns might have, for they had the facts.

Of course, there were the old magical authors that he enjoyed greatly and that Hermione Granger had helped him find in the library but he had read those particular works of fiction more times than he could count. Nathanael Latimer, the old playwright that had started out as the author of children's books, his parents had named him after, had been introduced to him- well, he couldn't even remember _when_ exactly his parents had first read one of Latimer's works to him. By the time he was seven, he had started to read his plays by himself and had easily moved on from there. Wizarding literature didn't hold the same appeal anymore and it was _such_ a shame.

Besides the horrid state of the library, Hogwarts was also exactly as his grandmother had described it- a death trap for anyone not attentive enough. The moving staircases, charmed to cushion a student's fall or not, made him uneasy. Heights weren't his cup of tea to begin with and having his only support _move_ while he was stepping off it certainly didn't help at all.

Maybe it would be different if he hadn't been homeschooled all his life. At home, he could read whatever and whenever he wanted and the house was quiet at all times. His parents were usually gone most of the day, both of them working from nine in the morning until five in the evening, and his lessons only lasted until noon. At school, he was busy with classes until five every day, although he knew he still had more spare time than both his brothers. Fifth Year already was something he wasn't looking forward to- if he'd had his will, he'd go back to his unconventional homeschooling, as people tended to call it, and learn everything he needed to know without the restrictions the Ministry imposed on them.

Umbridge was a perfectly nasty restriction that he could've done without. If she was to vanish in this very second, he'd be none the sadder for it nor would he be bothered by her disappearance- if anything, he'd be disappointed that they hadn't gotten to get back at her for torturing Harry.

"Longbottom," Draco regally sat in the armchair opposite him. "I trust you've spoken to McGonagall?"

"I've been up since dawn to do that. What, don't you trust me?"

His brother shook his head. "Not in the least. I _do_ know your cousin. It takes more than _that_ ," he vaguely gestured from Nathan's head to his toe and back up again, "to convince me you're any better than him."

"Well, what does that say about how trustworthy you are? We have the same parents, you and Neville are the same degree cousins as me and him."

" _I_ , unlike you, haven't grown up with that dunderhead for a best friend."

"No, you've just had Crabbe and Goyle. I bet they make for fascinating conversations."

"They weren't my friends," Draco scowled.

"Right," he said. "Harry called them your goons. Bodyguards, I gather. I'd call them numpties but even that is too light a description."

"How would you know? You've never met them."

He grinned at him. "My grandmother is a fantastic story-teller. My favourite is the one in which Crabbe tries to turn a cup into a vase and nearly stabbed himself to death by causing the whole thing to blow up in his face."

"Either way, they weren't my friends and they certainly aren't now. If you recall, I introduced your lot to my friends yesterday. Which reminds me- why do Daphne and Astoria not like you? They are neutral to almost everyone they meet but not you."

"Oh, uh, Astoria doesn't _not_ like me anymore, I think. She just doesn't _like_ me either and Daphne is just really good at holding grudges."

"Yes, but what did you do?"

Grimacing, he said, "I accidentally pushed Astoria down a flight of stairs when I was five or six years old. Astoria was fine, her magic reacted the same moment mine did but she still started crying. Daphne never forgave me for that."

He looked at him oddly. "Why would you push her down the stairs?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. We were just, I dunno, playing some game in my dad's ancestral home and she nearly ran into a family heirloom. I pushed her away and didn't notice that the stairs were right behind her."

"Clumsy like your cousin then. Anyhow, I only came to make sure you had done as you'd promised. I will go see Severus later and I assumed he'd want to know."

"Well, I wouldn't bother if I was you. My Grandmum is probably going to talk to him soon, if she hasn't already."

"Not about _that_ ," Draco snapped. "I was going to go talk to my _godfather_. My life doesn't revolve around you and Potter, as popular opinion would have it."

Before he could answer the accusation, Draco had gracefully jumped from his chair and left the common room at a haste, leaving Nathan with only a handful of Ravenclaws for company. That was the way it was most the time, he'd found. The Slytherins almost always kept away, choosing to linger in hallways and on the grounds, only returning to the common room when curfew began. Even when they were in the tower, most of them stayed in the dorms. Few enough had actually attempted to befriend the Ravenclaws, no matter the amount of olive branches they extended. Michael Corner, Ginny's new boyfriend, had told him that they felt offended in their honour to be kicked from the snake's pit and be thrust into the eagle's cage. He didn't think it could be such an affront to their honour. Ravenclaw was, after all, the house of the smart and studious. Historically, their two houses had the best interhouse relationships, going way back to Helena Ravenclaw and the Bloody Baron, a story that started lovely and ended sourly. Not to mention that he was fairly sure that their way of living made for a very lonely life.

Luna skipped into the common room within the hour. Her radish necklace, Nathan noticed at once, wasn't hanging around her neck as it had that morning but swinging from her fist instead.

"Luna," he began.

Luna smiled at him gently. "It's not important, Nathan. It's not their fault."

He felt anger rising in him. Luna was so _good_. She was kind and gentle and smiled for everyone. She would never harm anyone, creature or human alike. Her mind as unlike any other and her entire being screamed of a peaceful soul and _they_ _kept hurting her_. Even Ginny called her that nasty name, _Loony_ , as though Luna couldn't hear them. Luna was smarter than the lot of them. She deserved better and it angered him to see how lowly they treated her.

"It's important," he insisted. "They can't do that. That necklace belongs to you, they have no right to destroy it or tell you what to wear and not to wear-"

She put her hand on his in a calming gesture. "It's very kind of you to care. It's almost like having a friend."

He smiled exasperatedly. "Luna, I've told you before. I _am_ your friend. And as your friend, I don't want them to treat you like this. You're better than them."

"Daddy says so too," Luna confirmed. "But my mother always said it doesn't matter what they make of me as long as I don't forget who I am. See, that's what I've got my necklaces and earrings for. They protect me from things that will make me forget. I can make some for you too."

"I'd like that," he said. "No earrings, though."

They sat in silence for a while, Nathan's gaze fixed on the horizon and Luna's on her broken necklace chain as she fumbled to repair it. His eyes slid over to watch her bend and straightened several tiny chain links, growing increasingly confused. Finally, when the chain hadn't been fixed as the half hour mark approached, he asked, "Why don't you just use magic?"

"You mustn't use magic on a chain like this," Luna explained softly. "The necklace would lose its own magic."

He frowned. "Maybe you could send it to your father. I'm sure he can fix it for you."

"Oh, no, I don't want to bother Daddy with this. I can repair it myself, I've done it before."

Although he didn't like the implication of that, he decided to leave it at those words and looked at the sky once more. Lunch would begin soon but he wasn't very hungry. The meals they received at school were hearty and rich and although they were nothing short of delicious, he couldn't see himself growing very fond of it. His father was a masterful cook and had been since he was only a boy himself and Nathan found himself partial to it. During his childhood days, he'd been on a diet of lighter foods, rich in vitamins that were supposed to help his latent growth and keep him nice and healthy. At Hogwarts, they didn't seem to care about a healthy diet. He'd seen students stuff themselves with sugary foods at every time of the day. And now, with the revelations of the previous day, he doubted his abilities to eat such rich meals whilst having to look upon the despicable form of Umbridge. His stomach churned as his thoughts drifted to her and the angry red cuts he had seen on Harry's hand.

That woman had hurt his brother. Only a little less than two months had come and gone since he discovered the truth of his birth but Merlin be damned, Nathan had grown used to not being an only child anymore. Harry was his brother, _his twin_. They had shared a womb and they would've shared a life had they not been separated. Merlin, even Draco had grown on him in his own, twisted little way.

He startled out of thoughts as Luna touched his arm. He looked at her expectantly.

"It's time for lunch," she announced. "You promised Neville we would sit together today."

"Right," he said, standing up. "Let's go then. Better not keep him waiting."

* * *

Harry didn't turn up for lunch. Neville assured him that Harry had seemed fine when he'd last seen him, just after breakfast. He'd gone to the lake together with Hermione and Ron. Nothing about his demeanour had spoken of anything being wrong. Yet, Nathan had spotted his brother's two friends right away upon entering the Great Hall with a vacant spot besides Ron where Harry usually sat.

"I wrote to my gran."

Nathan directed his attention away from Harry's empty seat and toward his cousin, who was picking at his pasta listlessly. "She hasn't written back already, has she?"

"No. I don't think she'll even read the letter until tonight. I reckon I'll get her response by tomorrow morning."

Everyone else would've sounded delighted at the prospect of receiving a letter from their closest living relative, the person who had raised them all their life. Yet, Neville sounded downtrodden and Nathan knew exactly why. Ever since his earliest childhood days, his impression of his cousin's grandmother had been strongly influenced by her cool relationship to Neville. She found flaws in everything he did. He wasn't magic enough, he was too soft, too clumsy. His father had been so much better when he was his age. Right from the beginning, Neville had been competing against the boy Lady Augusta, as she insisted he call her, remembered her son to be. Nathan had only seen his Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice a handful of times when Lady Augusta had seen fit to bring him along on her frequent visits or when his father decided to check in to see how his own cousin's son and daughter-in-law were doing. They were never doing alright, he knew. They'd never be.

One of the reasons Lady Augusta had never been very partial to him was his relation to Barty Crouch Junior. She'd never hidden the fact that she despised him for being related to the boy who had helped torture her son into insanity, even if he was only related to him through adoption. That his Uncle Barty had personally taught him the ways of the law hadn't mattered to her in the least, nor had she cared about his early ambition to become an Auror, a dream he'd long left behind in favour of new ones .

"Maybe she'll be decent for once," he said. "She can't possibly blame you for this or say that Uncle Frank would've handled this situation himself. Not even Lady Augusta is that delirious."

Neville sent him a half-hearted glare. "She's still my gran, you know."

He shrugged. That's the way it was. He would point out his grandmother's flaws and Neville would point out that it didn't change the fact that she was his gran. "I know."

"Have you written to your parents yet?"

"An hour or so ago. My dad'll want to talk to your gran, I suppose."

"I suppose," Neville agreed. "And you, Luna? Have you written to your father?"

Luna didn't react. She was entirely focused on her plate of yellow mush which he suspected used to be cooked carrots before the girl got her hands on them. She was pushing it around into different forms. He shook his head at her fondly and turned back to his cousin. For another hour, until lunch was over, they talked of sweet nothings, bringing up memory after memory from their shared childhood, from Nathan's first act of magic to Neville's fall down the stairs when he'd ran to show him his Hogwarts letter. They tried to recall the stories his parents used to tell them in as much detail as they could before Nathan went on to summarise his newest read and then listen intently as Neville described his new favourite plant to him. For just an hour, he felt like he had travelled back to days gone by when everything was still right in his world.

* * *

 **Questions**

 **PaviCalli: Yes, I realise that so far, I've painted the Longbottoms as victims. That's because, in the end, they are victims in their own way. They adopted a baby boy that they thought had been left in an abandoned alley to die and they raised that baby like their own and they loved him like they loved no one and nothing else. They were a bit suspicious of Nathan's true identity, for reasons that will come up later down the road, but never enough that they would risk losing the only child they ever had and will likely ever have. It's a selfish desire to keep those you love close, especially when it comes to your children. McGonagall, likewise, never exposed Harry as Eoin Malfoy as she couldn't bear to see her only daughter in pain. (Besides, it stands to reason that McGonagall and the Longbottoms thought they were doing Nate a favour by not investigating. Had he been discovered to be Finian at a younger age, it's impossible to say how he would've turned out and the effects being uprooted would've had on a young child) Also, when Nathan took the potion, he was in pain. So much pain, in fact, that he passed out. And that's at thirteen, almost fourteen, years old. That potion, which only took down the permanent glamour, btw, can't be given to babies or very young children as it would be considered cruel and viewed as child abuse. They couldn't test his magical residue when he was a baby as they'd need him to do magic to do that. Nathan's accidental magic didn't set in until he was around one or two and, as per usual, it was very unreliable.  
**

 **Harry is less angry than Nathan at this point. He doesn't miss the Dursleys. The only thing he misses is being able to truthfully call Lily and James his parents. They were heroes, especially in Harry's mind, and he worships them for their sacrifice.**

 **Nathan, on the other hand, misses his family. He misses his mum and dad who have raised him for fourteen years and he misses his godparents and Tonks. He misses his home, which he felt comfortable with and in which he was never forced to fight for his life. His life has changed the most and it only makes sense that he, all things considered, is the most unhappy, even if he doesn't show it as much. His displeasure will come into play soon. It's already part of this chapter. Don't forget that they're just boys. They can't be expected to be logical when faced with such giant changes.**

 **Rowenasheir: No, Dumbledore didn't experiment on the twins. This is not a story in which he's evil. Just misguided but with the best intentions. He thought Harry was going to grow up with Lily and James, in a home equally as loving as the one Nathan grew up in. He wanted them to be happy, both of them. When Lily and James died, he gave Harry to Petunia because of the Blood Wards. I've changed them a little but we'll come to that at one point or another.**

 **BTW, I think my 50 chapter goal is pretty much out of the window. I'm guessing I'll need more than that to finish this story in a manner I can be satisfied with.**


	34. Chapter 33

**Hey, there, guys!** **Quick question- I'm thinking about changing the name of this story. _Neverland_ was always just meant as a working title but I never got around to changing it and I just sort of put it on the back burner. There are ways I can make this title make sense but I figured it might be good to get a title that actually relates to the story more directly than it does right now. Let me know what you think.  
**

 **Current titles I'm more or less considering (I'm pretty bad at naming stuff. It's a curse.):**

 _ **Look At My Son (In Lin-Manuel Miranda's Broadway Musical Hamilton, there's a song called Dear Theodosia in which Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton are singing to their newborn children. When Ham is singing to his baby son, he sings "My son. Look at my son. Pride is not the word I'm looking for.")  
**_

 _ **What's in a Name?**_

 _ **The Greater Good**_

 _ **What I Sacrificed**_

 _ **Retrovailles (Means: Rediscovery; Reuniting with someone after a long time of separation)**_

 _ **The Tale of Three Brother**_

 **If I come up with more, I'll be sure to let you know. Let me know if any of those appeal to you. If you've got any ideas, drop them in the review section. Thanks!  
**

* * *

"Ronald, stop it," Hermione snapped, interrupting Ron's self-pitying rant to Harry's relief. "It'll be just fine. If you weren't good enough, you wouldn't have gotten on the team. Tell him, Harry."

He nodded. "She's right, Ron. Don't worry about it."

Guilt welled up in the pits of his stomach as Ron nodded sullenly. The weekend was over and Monday, the day of Ron's very first Quidditch training, had begun and despite his initial joy over making Keeper, the redhead's mood had turned south sometime during the night. Harry hadn't expected any less. The twins had been playing for the team for years and from all he had seen and heard, they wouldn't have any need for replacements until they graduated next summer. Before Harry made the team, Charlie Weasley had played Seeker and had left a legacy no one assumed Ron- or anyone, really- would be able to live up to. Yet, Ron was firm in his belief that everyone expected it of him and if he fell short of those expectations, he'd make a fool of himself for once and for all.

He hadn't even considered telling Ron of his talk with Angelina Johnson the previous evening which ended in Angelina basically begging him to train his friend. Harry, of course, had agreed right away- better him than anyone else. Ron's ego would still suffer a significant blow but it was for the best.

"Easy for you to say," Ron muttered. "You've got Quidditch in your blood."

He frowned. "Do I? Neither of my real parents played Quidditch, not that I know."

"Well, you and Draco are both good Seekers and we don't know if Nathan plays Quidditch. You must've gotten it from somewhere," Hermione said.

"Still, it's not like Malfoy was anything like my dad. I mean, they've got trophies with my dad's name on them but none of Malfoy."

"You're a natural either way. Unlike me."

Harry shook his head and poked at his scrambled eggs. Ever since Friday night, he'd lost almost all of his appetite and it took Hermione's fiercest glares to get more than a piece of bread into his stomach. He just couldn't help it- he felt sick all the time, especially as he could clearly see the pink blur from the corner of his eye no matter where he sat on the Gryffindor table. The very sight of her made his cuts tingle uncomfortably, although Hermione had assured him that it was just his mind playing him tricks.

"Right," Hermione said loudly. "I've got to go to Arithmancy now. What do you have first?"

He glanced at his schedule and almost managed a grin. "Double period of nothing."

"Wicked," Ron perked up. "Mate, you and I should head down to the Quidditch pitch."

Relieved that he wouldn't have to bring up the possibility of extra training sessions himself, he smiled at Ron and nodded. As Hermione and almost all of the other students left to go to their classes, Harry went to grab his Firebolt from his trunk. It had been a while since he'd last flown on it and he could hardly wait to feel the air rushing past him again. There was no place else he felt as safe and natural as he did riding a broomstick high over the ground.

He stopped abruptly as a blonde blur passed by him. "Nathan?"

His brother turned around, his face red with anger, and Harry immediately knew that something had happened.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked confused.

"That stupid diddy is trying to get my Grandmum fired!" Nathan raged. "I just heard- she's gonna inspect every teacher and I just _know_ that she'll try to sack her the first chance she gets and that's not _fair!_ "

Ron looked at him startled and Harry nodded as subtly as he could, silently telling him to leave them alone. As Ron left at a hasty pace, Harry gulped. This was his first real chance at being a big brother, the first time since the attack on Malfoy Manor that his twin needed him to be the calm and rational one.

"Nathan- How- Where did you hear about that?"

"Some Slytherins were talking about it. They said it was time my grandmother was sacked and that the whole school would be better off without her- they called her nasty names and I just-"

"You just what?" he asked, remembering the day his brother almost broke Draco's nose for calling Tonks ugly names. "Did you punch them?"

"I tried."

"But?"

"Ginny pulled me away and told me to go calm down. She said she'd cover with Craydon for me."

He frowned. "Then why were you so angry just now?"

"Because I haven't had time to calm down yet!" Nathan ran his hand through his hair and walked a few paces. "Harry, I didn't want to come here in the first place. I was fine being taught at home. If they take my grandmother away- I'll have nothing left. She's the only thing I've got now besides Neville that reminds me of home. They can't take her away from me."

Grimacing, Harry thought back to the place he had left behind when it was discovered who he truly was. It wasn't something he would've called a home, then or now. The only difference was that now, he had a better idea of what home felt like and it only told him that the Dursleys had never been his family, even when he thought they were the only relatives he had left. Nathan's experienced differed so greatly from his own that Harry could hardly even begin to imagine what it felt like to be in his situation.

"Well, did you talk to McGonagall yet?" He asked after a few seconds. "I mean, she'd know for sure, wouldn't she? Maybe they were just lying to get to you."

In the end, he got Nathan to promise that he'd talk to McGonagall as soon as he could and went to join Ron on the Quidditch pitch. Yet, by the time they returned to the castle in time for their first class of the day, he discovered that Nathan wouldn't need to talk to her anymore. The entire student body was buzzing with the news that Umbridge had taken it upon herself to inspect all teachers that were still left. The names of already replaced professors fell frequently, all names Harry associated with Professor Dumbledore, Trelawney excluded, and he didn't need to be a Ravenclaw to figure out that McGonagall's name would fit snugly with that list. Of all the professors, it had always been McGonagall who supported Dumbledore the most and who supported him openly and with the least reservation. The only time Harry could recall when she defied him was when she allowed Snape to find out that he was Eoin Malfoy, and even then she'd waited a whole four years before making that decision. It only made sense, even to Harry, that Umbridge would try to get rid of her and that others would realise that as well- he only hated that his brother found out from someone who intended to harm him with that information.

The rest of the day was even more sullen than the beginning of it. Not only was Ron still worrying about the upcoming training but now, the entirety of Gryffindor House and great majority of the Hufflepuff Harry came across were in a bad mood, most of them already trying to imagine a Hogwarts that didn't include McGonagall anymore. He himself found it difficult to imagine. Of all the Professors- besides Lupin of course- he'd always liked his brother's grandmother best and he didn't doubt that she was his greatest ally among the staff. She was the only one who'd bothered to warn him about Umbridge, after all.

It didn't help at all that, after his Arithmancy lesson had ended, one glance at his schedule told him that he'd have to head down to the dungeons to face Snape again for the first time since the greasy old bat had been told of his detentions with Umbridge.

"Hey, Harry. Ron," Neville smiled at them weakly as they met up in the Entrance Hall. "How was Arithmancy?"

"Horrible," Ron groaned. "But not as terrible as Potion's gonna be. That bloody essay he made us write almost killed me. Three foot and we haven't even been here a whole week yet!"

Startled, Harry looked at him. Not even a whole week yet? It felt like so much time had passed already, although his feeling of time had been askew since he'd received Snape's note, back at Privet Drive. He'd been put through Umbridge's detention three days in a row and had his cuts discovered and exposed to the likes of Snape within only six days.

 _So much for being able to keep secrets_ , he mused.

"At least we're done for the day after Potions."

Ron grumbled at Neville. "Speak for yourself."

"We've got Herbology after."

"Oh, well, that's not too bad. I had it just now," with that, Neville launched into a detail description of what he'd done in class as they pretended to be interested. Other than him, neither Harry nor Ron had a particular interest in plants and they weren't nearly as talented at caring for them.

Potions, per usual, was a dreary and horrid affair. Snape was not going easy on them and seemed even more agitated than usual as he stalked through the rows and managed to find faults everywhere he looked. Harry and Neville's potions were especially easy targets, both too thick and too brown when they were meant to be smooth, liquid like and turquoise in colour. He didn't know where they'd gone wrong and when he said so, under his breath, hoping Snape wouldn't hear, the miserable man had been all too happy to point it out to him using words that even a child would find patronising.

When the class finally drew to an end, Harry was among the first to have finished bottling up his potion. He dropped the vial on the front desk and made to scurry away when Snape's silky voice stopped him. "Black- stay behind."

Harry gritted his teeth and nodded tensely. He watched as the students filed out, Neville and Ron lingering as long as they could before Snape's pointed glare sent them scampering out into the hallway. The door fell shut behind them and he was left alone with his brother's godfather.

"As Longbottom might have told you, I met with Professor McGonagall on Saturday to discuss your situation as well as that of your brothers with her," Snape began. "During that conversation, she has brought to my attention that your spellwork thus far has seemed less proficient than it has in previous years. Have you noticed this as well?"

He frowned. He _had_ noticed that he'd been having some troubles but he'd considered them minor. His spells came out a bit butchered, either overpowered or with too little force. He nodded. "I didn't think it was important."

"You thought it unimportant that you were having difficulties with your spellwork, the very basis of what it means to be a wizard?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he said, "I meant that I thought it'd go away soon."

"You _'thought it would go away soon'_? Potter, you-" Snape visibly restrained himself and Harry was silently grateful. He had no doubt whatever words had threatened to spill out of him would've been anything but nice. "Your mother told me that you blew up your bedroom the day after I took you to Malfoy Manor. By accident, she assured me. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"And I was informed that on the day we discovered Longbottom, the mattress of one of the beds provided to you both had been found heavily charred. Tell me, was it Longbottom that set fire to it?"

"No but it was-"

"An accident?" Snape asked, continuing before Harry could go on. "The summer before that, the Ministry received a notification that you had accidentally turned your uncle's sister into a hot air balloon. Is this correct?"

 _He's not my uncle_. "Yes."

"Therefore, is it not true when I say that your magic has been giving you trouble for some time already, considering you are already of an age where you should have control over it?" When Harry didn't answer, he said, "Coincidentally, Professor McGonagall has conveyed to me a similar picture of Longbottom's magic and according to her, the boy has had a good grip on his magic since he was eleven years old, as any wizard or witch ought to have."

"So you think there's a connection?"

"Of course, you idiot boy," Snape snapped. "Why else would I be telling you these things? What do you know about Magical Residue?"

Trying to recall everything his mother had told him about that topic, he said, "Everyone's got one and it's, uh, different for everyone. Like a fingerprint."

When nothing else came, Snape sighed in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Whenever a wizard or witch performs an act of magic, they leave behind a small trace of themselves," he explained. "Every potion you have ever brewed, miserable as they were, and every spell you have ever performed has been laced with a small amount of your magical residue. When the Headmaster took you and Longbottom on the day of your birth, he needed to make alterations to you, using his magic. By putting permanent glamours on you, he left a small part of his residue within you and another bit when he gave you a self-brewed potion that aged you, as well as a potion to counter-act the health issues your premature birth had on you-"

"What?"

"-Therefore, you were left, at only a few hours old, with both your own magic as well as the residue left by the Headmaster," Snape said, ignoring Harry's inquiry. "Over time, your magic began to draw on the residue. Now that it was removed, you have lost the balance and need to rediscover your magic. The Headmaster's residue had little effect on your power but it still makes a significant difference in the way you now have to balance power and restraint."

He filtered the words carefully, choosing to ignore all the things he didn't understand, and was left with so many questions that he didn't even know how to begin.

"But Aunt Marge was before the, uh, residue was taken out of me. And when I blew up that room, I still had it too."

Entirely too dismissive of him, Snape said, "Simply due to your magic conflicting with his. Clashes such as those happened to Longbottom as well, only on a smaller scale. Now, I will give you one month, and one month precisely, to see if you can manage this yourself. If, by the end of the month, you haven't, you will be attending…special lessons."

With that, he was dismissed and Harry scurried away before he could remember to ask Snape for a pass that he could show Professor Sprout when she asked why he was so late.


	35. Chapter 34

**Doctor Who (mentioned only) doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

After his talk with Snape, his life seemed to settle down all at once. A week passed and then another one and for a while, it was all too easy to forget that the events of the summer had even happened. Everyone knew him well enough to recognise him on sight, even with his blonde hair and blue eyes and if they didn't, they at least had no trouble finding his scar. Most of them weren't bothered by his changed appearance anymore and he had gotten so used to it that he himself hardly even flinched anymore when he saw his own reflection or ran his hand through his hair only to rediscover that his thick messy hair had made way for waves that didn't tangle nearly as easily as before.

With their first training behind them, Quidditch had also properly picked up again and Harry found himself walking down to the pitch to meet the rest of the team thrice a week and at least one additional time to train with Ron. They spent so much time on their broomsticks that Hermione had started meeting up with Neville once they went off to hang around with the others. Harry himself saw very little of Neville outside of their shared classes and the common room. Once their last class of the day was over, they always parted ways to meet with their respective groups. He'd tried to invite the other boy along a few times but Neville always declined with the excuse that he had lots to catch up on with Nathan after they'd spent the whole summer away from one another.

They always met up in the common room, however, and just sat around for an hour or two. Sometimes, they talked of matters of little consequence- homework, classes and the likes- but more often than not, they used that chance to truly get to know each other. Neville told him stories of his childhood, some that were pleasant and funny or even heart-warming but others were horrid. In exchange, Harry forced himself to talk of his time with the Dursleys, even though Neville had ensured him that he didn't have to. They exchanged stories of their parents, stories that they themselves had been told by others at some point. And other times, they just sat in silence and worked on their homework and Harry found he enjoyed those days as much as he enjoyed the rest.

Of Nathan he saw much less. They hardly ever crossed path by coincidence and neither he nor his brother actively sought the other out. At first, he'd been worried but after he'd spotted Nathan a few times from afar, his worry had waned. Whenever he saw his brother, he was all smiles and laughter, especially when he was talking to Luna. He grinned. Even he could see that his brother had taken a fancy to Luna.

"What are you grinning about?" Ron asked, dropping his quill.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing's got you in a bloody good mood," he grumbled. "Wish I could grin but this bloody essay won't allow it."

Their new History teacher, Professor Craydon, had tasked them with revisions from the previous year ever since their first class. He said it was to make sure they hadn't slacked too much because of the Tournament but everyone knew that he was just trying to make up for all the hours they'd spent sleeping through Binns' lectures. Most students were annoyed that they had to work for their grade now but Harry, to everyone's surprise, actually enjoyed History now that they had a competent enough teacher. He told them fascinating things and hadn't even mentioned any Goblin wars yet, which was the only things Binns had bothered to teach them about.

His grin grew. "I think it's interesting."

"What?" Ron asked, stunned. " _This?_ It's just Arthur and Merlin, everyone knows this stuff already."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's not true. Muggleborns won't know the details."

"Besides," Harry added. "You couldn't answer Craydon's question about Merlin's birth either."

"It's not like anybody cares if Merlin was some Princess' son and _you_ said Muggles knew about them already."

"But not the _details_ , Ronald," she repeated. "Just because you don't care doesn't mean others don't."

Harry nodded, flipping the page of his book. "Neville's really good at it. I think his grandmother made him study history a lot."

"As he should. History's really important."

"What for?"

"Because we can learn from it," she said exasperated. "If we just forget what happened in the past, it'll just happen again. Just look at the Goblin Wars. Had they learnt their lessons, there wouldn't have been so many."

As Ron and Hermione continued to squabble over the importance of History, Harry looked toward the lake. It was a nice day out for late September. A bit chilly but nowhere near as cold as he knew it would be once winter arrived in a few weeks. The days were already growing shorter but the sun never sank before eight in the evening. Harry couldn't wait for winter- it was by far his favourite season of the year and Hogwarts was nothing short of magnificent when covered in several feet of snow. He loved the way the castle seemed to glow once the sun had set and the beautiful Christmas decorations that were put up every year. Hogwarts was, there was simply no other way of saying it, at its most magical during winter.

Yet, he still had a few weeks to wait. Before Christmas, they would have their annual Halloween celebration, something he was not looking forward to at all. Ever since he had arrived at school, bad things happened on Halloween. His First Year, they nearly got Hermione killed by making her cry. A troll, let in by Quirrell, had found her by herself in the girl's bathroom and they had only just gotten to her in time. His Second Year, they had returned from Nearly-Headless Nick's Death Anniversary Party to find Mrs Norris petrified and a message written in blood on the wall behind her. Third Year's Halloween Feast had come to a crude end when Sirius destroyed the Fat Lady's portrait to get into the Tower and last year's Halloween was the worst of them all. He had expected to be chosen, of course, but there had been that short moment of relief, a feeling of safety, that had made the calling of his name all the worse. And this year- well, he wasn't very hopeful. Not with Umbridge around. Aside from what little he could get out of Nathan and Draco, he hadn't heard any news about what was going to happen. They had assured him that the wheels were turning and that they would get moving soon but two weeks had passed since then. Every letter he got, from Sirius and his mother alike, was utterly mundane and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a secret meaning behind their words. When Harry had gone to vent off with Ron, he had only laughed and told him that that's the way it was with parents and that hadn't helped one bit, even though it had given him a warm feeling to realise that he was finally being treated like someone's son.

"Harry!" He snapped his head around. Ron was looking at him annoyed whilst Hermione stood off to the side, shaking her head.

"What?" he asked.

"We have to go to dinner now. Ron's been trying to tell you but you weren't listening."

"Sorry. Let's go."

He stood up and brushed his pants off, his muscles protesting. He had sat at an awkward angle, he realised as he shook his legs to get the tension out of them.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."

"Good. Come on, then. I'm hungry."

Hermione laughed. "When aren't you?"

Evening fell soon after dinner and Harry made his way to the Hufflepuff common room before long. Neville was already there, a book lying forgotten by his side. Megan, the girl Neville had introduced him to two weeks ago, was once more sitting on the floor by the fireplace.

"Oh, hey, Harry. You remember Megan, right?"

"Yeah, sure," he gave her a small smile. "Hello."

"How do you do?" She replied with a grin. "I was just telling Neville of some of the greater Muggle inventions. You grew up with your muggle family, didn't you?"

He grimaced. "They're not my family but yeah, I grew up with muggles."

Megan frowned but before she could say something, Neville cut in, "Megan was telling me about the telly. Is it really that good?"

"I dunno. I never watched much telly."

"My favourite show is Doctor Who," she said, beaming at them. "Ever watched it?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so."

He had seen it once, when he was a little boy, no more than four years old. Dudley had come across it by chance and Aunt Petunia hadn't had minded until the box disappeared and reappeared in another time and place. She had grabbed the remote right out of Dudley's hand and turned the telly off. It had forever remained one of the few occasions Harry could remember when his mother's sister refused her son anything.

For the next half hour, Megan told them the story of the Doctor who apparently had no other name than that. Neville was engrossed in the story, soaking in every single word Megan said but Harry, who had heard of the show at primary school and through commercials, soon found himself drifting off deeper into his thoughts.

He was only two weeks away from Snape's deadline. Half a month had passed in a blur but his control over his magic had scarcely improved. He wasn't even sure why it was so important to Snape- the git didn't even like him. Maybe, he supposed, Snape did it because he was friends with his parents, which Harry felt weird thinking about, and thought he was obligated to help him. If he just told him that he didn't have to- no, that wouldn't work. Snape would never listen to anything he had to say and would simply double his efforts, just out of spite.

"Where did you grow up, Harry?"

"Oh, uh, Surrey," he said, snapping out of his thoughts. "I grew up in Surrey."

"I grew up in Dorset. That's basically just around the corner. I bet we've even been in the same place at the same time at some point!"

"No, I don't think so," he said awkwardly. "Unless you've ever been in Little Whinging. I never got-"

"Harry!"

The door swung open and Ron stumbled into the room, out of breath and his eyes wide.

"Ron?" He asked, slowly standing up. "What's wrong?"

"You- Neville- Follow me!"

Ignoring the confused looks of those around them, Neville and Harry quickly said goodbye to Megan and followed Ron out of the common room. An unusual amount of people were gathered in the hallways, whispering and pointing, their words coming fast and their agitation obvious even to him. They ran up the stairs and rushed into the library. Hermione, Nathan and Draco were in an isolated corner of the large hall, all in various degrees of distress. Draco was paler than usual, almost worryingly so, and Nathan was pacing furiously. Hermione stood by the side, a newspaper clutched in her hand. Three letters laid spread out on the table before his older brother.

"What's going on?" He asked, almost afraid to give voice to his question.

Hermione looked down at the newspaper before looking back up at him. She held the paper out for him and, confused, he took it from her and unfolded it. Lucius Malfoy stared up at him from the page. A second picture of a black-haired, crazed woman was beside his. Written above the photos in bold writing were four words.

 _ **Mass Breakout from Azkaban!**_

* * *

 **Alrighty, fellas, as you might've notices, this is where I start to mess with the timeline. Not by much, don't worry, but some things needed to change due to the changes I already introduced. If you've got any questions about this, lay 'em on me.  
**

 **Questions:  
**

 **Dramione: The pairings are pretty much decided on. I don't want to spoil anything so I guess in regards to pairings, you'll have to be patient. Some characters will be paired several times until they reach endgame. It's just more realistic that way, I reckon. As both an author and a reader, I'm rather neutral about Dramione. I'm not into romantic fics myself and prefer it if the pairings aren't the main plot, so that's what you should expect from this story. If it's well done, I'm fine with Dramione but there are several issues one would need to sort out. For example, even though my Draco and Harry are brothers, Draco still harbours a strong dislike for Muggleborn witches and wizards. That hasn't changed. Hermione is proud, as she should be, and wouldn't be with someone who hates her for her blood and who hates her parents. It's sort of like a drastic version of Lily and Snape. I doubt they would've ever become endgame as Lily too was proud of her heritage. So, I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. (I do know, of course, but you don't and you won't for a rather long time, I'm afraid)**

 **BTW, I'm not sure if I mentioned it already but my 50 chapter goal is pretty much off the table. I'm way too far away from where I want to end up to cram it in 16 chapters. I'm just gonna stop trying to guess how many chapters it'll take to tell this story.**

 **I'm still taking opinions and suggestions about a name change. I've got a favourite but I really would like your opinion. I've opened a poll on my profile. It only takes a few seconds and would help me. Thanks!**


	36. Chapter 35

"This can't be," Narcissa exclaimed, pacing the length of dining room. "This isn't supposed to happen!"

Sirius and Lupin sat by the door, huddled over the emergency Prophet her niece had delivered them. Nymphadora herself was hovering nearby, awkward and confident at once. Mad-Eye Moody stood beside her in stoic silence and Andy and Molly were talking quietly in one corner of the room.

When she had read the news of the escape, she had considered whether she was actually just caught in a horrible nightmare. Eleven Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban, a prison that was supposed to be the securest prison on earth. Among them were her sister, wicked and equipped with a dead, cold heart, and her husband. Ex-husband. Lucius. Almost two months had gone by since she had divorced him and taken back her maiden name, since the love of her life had been sentenced to Azkaban because of her decision to pick her son over his father. She didn't regret that decision and never would but the thought of Lucius in Azkaban, in that horrible place, still tore at her heart. They had been husband and wife for sixteen years, lovers for an additional three. She had just been a girl when they fell in love. He was her first love, the only man she had ever felt these feelings for. He had gifted her with three incredible sons. He had stood by her side when Bella was arrested and sentenced. He had comforted her when Draco's illness got worse and he had held her when the Ministry decided to stop searching for her twin boys. He had been her rock so often, the only constant in her life. Every time misfortune came for her, he was there for her and later for Draco too.

"It says here they think I helped them," Sirius said with a snort. "The only time I'd help Bella is if she was trying to die."

She glared at her cousin. Bella was her sister, no matter how wicked she was. She didn't want her eldest sister dead, just locked away somewhere she couldn't hurt anyone- especially her sons. Though if she had to choose between her son, any one of them, and Bella- no. She wouldn't have to choose. There won't be any need, ever. And if there was…well, she knew who she would choose. Nothing would ever come between her and her boys again.

"I think you'll have to fight a few people for that honour, Padfoot."

"Nah, we can just team up. The Longbottoms' boy- whatsit- can be my right-hand man."

Andy shook her head. "His name is Neville."

"Neville, right. He was a cute baby. Not as cute as me and Harry, though."

"Sirius," she said exasperatedly. "Could we please concentrate? The Longbottom boy is of no relevance right now."

"Well, he actually is," Andy disagreed. "Whatever decision we make in regards to your boys now, Nate will insist on keeping Neville close."

"Why?"

Her sister shook her head, a faint look of disappointment coming across her face. "Haven't you managed to get that boy to open up the least? Nate and Neville are as close as brothers. They've been best friends since the beginning. If you haven't noticed yet, Nathan will do anything for his family. You could throw Neville in a pit of dragons and your son would dive in straight after him."

"It's the same with Harry, Ron and Hermione," Molly added.

"Well, Harry would jump into a dragon pit for just about anyone," Lupin said. "Hermione calls it his 'saving people thing'."

"Plus, from what I've been hearing, they both made friends with Ginny and some girl called Luna Lovegood," Nymphadora said.

She closed her eyes and massaged her temple. If she pulled her sons out of school now, at least the twins would insist on either staying or taking all of their friends with them into hiding. There was no way she could bear the responsibility for an additional three or so children, not during a time of war when no one's survival was for certain. If she let them stay in school, she might as well be serving them to Bellatrix on a silver platter. Unless…

She looked around the room and took a deep breath, hardly believing the words that were about to leave her mouth. "We need to get Dumbledore back."

* * *

For the first time, Harry could see why his brother and Neville often referred to themselves being as close as brothers. He hadn't seen them together a lot and when he did, they seemed no closer than he and Ron- Harry did like to think of Ron as his brother but they never referred to each other as such. Now, however, it was clear to see, even for him. Neville had the newspaper clutched in his hands, his eyes fixed on the picture of the woman and Nathan simply stood beside him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, silently engulfing Neville in a one-sided hug. They were solemn and serious and for some reason, Harry knew exactly what they were thinking about- Neville's parents, who had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew Nathan had been adopted around the time the Longbottoms were tortured and that neither he nor Neville could remember a time they weren't cooped up in St. Mungo's but in that moment, they were mourning the way Harry sometimes did.

"Who is that woman, Neville?" Hermione asked after a while, her voice soft.

Neville stayed silent. He nodded once and Nathan looked at them. "That's Bellatrix Lestrange. She- shortly after Harry defeated You-Know-Who, Lestrange wanted to find him. For some reason, she thought Neville's parents would know where he was. It doesn't make any sense. They'd been in hiding for a while, like the Potters, and they hadn't heard about what happened in Godric's Hollow until everyone else did."

"Godric's Hollow?" Harry interrupted.

"Yeah. My grandmother told me that that's where you and your parents lived. It's where you defeated him. Anyway, Lestrange, her husband, her brother-in-law and- and my cousin, Barty Crouch Junior, found them in their hideaway. Aunt Alice hid Neville in a cupboard and put a silencing spell on him. She didn't want him to be found. The Lestranges and Barty- they did unspeakable things to Aunt Alice and Uncle Frank. They tortured them. They tried to get information out of them. No one knows how long, hours probably."

"They didn't break," Neville said suddenly, his chest swelling with pride. "They didn't say a single word. I'm quite proud to be their son."

"I'm sure they'd be proud to have you for a son, too," Hermione said and they all nodded their agreement, even Draco who looked as though he was trying to suppress a snort.

"We'll make them proud, Neville," Harry said. "I promise."

Neville smiled at him, a small smile that didn't reach his eyes but Harry figured I was better than nothing. Nathan grabbed the paper out of his cousin's hand and opened it fully to read the article.

"They think your godfather helped them, Harry."

Ron snorted. "I bet Sirius likes that."

"They don't think it," Draco disagreed, ignoring Ron. "Fudge is a fool. He probably has no idea what happened."

Hermione nodded, taking the paper and spreading it out on the table. Harry grimaced as Malfoy's face stared up at him, solemn and silent where Lestrange's was wild and loud. "I agree. We all know who did this."

"Voldemort."

"Don't say his name!"

"Don't mind the name," Hermione said. "We've got more important matters. Besides, fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, Granger, but only fools don't fear the Dark Lord."

"That doesn't mean you have to make him appear god-like by avoiding his name-"

"Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Please."

"Fine. But this isn't over."

"Okay, let's concentrate for just a second," Nathan said as he fell into the chair beside Hermione. "What do we do?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. "We do nothing. Our situation hasn't changed."

"Yes, it has," Nathan said. "Eleven Death Eaters have escaped Azkaban. Who do you think they'll come after first? I don't know about you but I'll be there when they try to kill Harry. Everything has changed."

Harry perked up- his brother was right. They would come after him sooner or later. Nathan couldn't be there when that happened. None of his friends could be. _He couldn't be at Hogwarts when that happened_.

"I have to go," he said quietly. "I can't stay at Hogwarts."

"You're not making any sense, Harry," Hermione said.

"Yeah, mate. Why would you leave?"

"Because I'm a danger to all of you," said Harry. "If they come after me while I'm around you, they'll kill you too."

"You mean they'll try to kill us. Who says they'll be successful?"

"Common sense says so," Draco said. "They're fully trained wizards and witches. Some are powerful too. We, however, are a group of teenaged wizards who haven't finished their education yet. We haven't even sat our O.W.L.s. How could we possibly fight them?"

"It's not like it'd be the first time."

"Nathan's right. We've fought dark wizards before."

"Yes, and we've survived because we got lucky," he said. "Not because we're more powerful. Don't you understand? There's no chance I'll survive this war. Voldemort's been after me since I was a baby. I don't want you to die for me."

They all looked at him in silence but Harry refused to stand down. He had to make them understand. It was the only way they could survive. He was lost but they didn't have to be. They could live and do great things. Eventually, they'd get over his death and move on with their lives. He knew they would. He only had to make them see.

"Harry, I don't think you understand," said Hermione. "We're in this together."

"Hermione-"

"No, Harry. Listen to me. We're not letting you fight this war alone. It's about all of us. We don't need you to save us, alright? We can _all_ survive and that includes you."

"We'll kick their Death Eater butts, eh, mate?"

Nathan shook his head, grinning ever so slightly. " _The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him but because he loves what is behind him_. Although I reckon we can make an exception with this one."

"Guys…"

"Potter, shut up for once, will you? Mother would never get over it if you died. She only just found you. If you don't think you'll survive, you won't, so start believing you will."

"Wow, Malfoy, I'd never taken you for one to believe in faith."

"I don't," Draco snarled. "But people who don't think they'll survive are more reckless and you Gryffindors are too reckless as it is. To get back to Longbottom's question, do any of you geniuses a different idea?"

"Yes," Neville said, strangely determined. "We prepare to fight."

"Fight? _You?_ "

"Don't talk to my cousin like that," said Nathan. "Besides, this is the perfect time to start that study group of yours."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Good idea, Nathan. But, I think, we should try to get as many people as possible because- don't interrupt me, Malfoy- because now, we have to seriously prepare for the war and we can't survive by ourselves."

Harry listened half-heartedly as his best friend and his brother bickered back and forth on the advantages and disadvantages of a large group. He didn't see the point of it. Of course, it made sense to train a lot of people to prepare them for the war but every person they recruited was one more person's blood that would be on his hands. They would fight _his_ war, the war between him and Voldemort that started when he was only three months old and continued ten years later. He didn't want them to die for him, none of them. Too many people had already lost their lived. His mum, his dad, Cedric. His dad had tried to stop Voldemort to give his mum time to escape with him and she had begged for him to spared in exchange for his own life. _Take Harry and go! Go! Run! I'll hold him off! Not Harry! Please!  
_

In the end, they came to an agreement. They would spread the word and allow people to join them, however many there were, but they wouldn't go around trying to persuade them to join. Hermione and Draco both seemed less than happy with this agreement but Harry was just glad they had reached one. As they got up, just before curfew, to return to their common rooms, Harry swore to himself that none of them would die. His friends and his family would survive. _The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him but because he loves what is behind him._ The war was coming and Harry was one of its soldiers. He would fight and he'd do it for them.

* * *

He stumbled through the woods, the sound of snapping twigs and wicked laughter ringing in his years. He didn't know how much time had passed, nor where he was, but he knew who was behind him, chasing him with almost childlike glee.

"Oh, Luci!" She screamed, her voice rough from all the screaming she'd done both in Azkaban and since they'd escaped. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

He didn't know what had happened. One second, he was lying in his tiny dirty cell, curled into a ball in the far corner. The sounds of Bellatrix screaming her head off had faded into nothingness, long since a sound his brain had learned to shut off, and had only vaguely registered the momentary quiet when a gust of wind, so unfamiliar on his skin, had blown past him and the support behind his back gave way. The wall behind him had collapsed, reduced to debris and rocks tumbling into the sea. All around him, other inmates were screaming in joy and then they were off, all at once, ridden by the desire to taste that sweet freedom. A wall of water had greeted them, so cold he feared his limbs would freeze and pull him under, but the sting of the cold had been sweet in its own way. The pain brought sensation back into his bones and pumped his body with adrenaline.

Now, he was running through the woods as fast as he could. He couldn't tell how long he'd been running. Long enough for the sun to disappear at the horizon and for the moon to take its place. It was a chilly night. He didn't know which month it was, nor how long it had been since he was thrown into his cell, but it was autumn for sure. The leaves were scarcely green anymore and plenty of them had already fallen off their twigs. Normally, Lucius quite enjoyed autumn but now, the conditions of the season were making his escape harder than he would've liked and his search for the end of the anti-apparition wards far more difficult than it needed to be. Branches and roots tripped him every other step and leaves kept blowing into his face with an annoying accuracy, accented by the cold wind which not only made his face grow numb but also had him shivering in his wet clothes. He could feel his throat start to pain, along with the burn that had long ago settled into his legs and feet. His chest felt constrained and his breaths came hard and fast. Yet, he couldn't hear Bellatrix panting behind him. He didn't know how but his sister-in-law had taken to Azkaban astonishingly well. The malnourishment hardly seemed to faze her. Even though she was starved to the bone, she had the energy of a much younger, much healthier woman. Or maybe she had simply grown so accustomed to being hungry and tired that she had just learned to blend it out. Either way, he knew, with dreadful certainty, that she was advancing on him quickly, her footsteps not slowing down the least whilst his couldn't keep pace.

"Lucius," she shouted in a sing-song voice. "Nearly got you!"

He turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but couldn't see her- he hoped she was farther back than he'd thought but her hair was black as the night and her frame thin enough to disappear behind the thick trees. He whipped his head back around. His nose erupted in staggering pain. He stumbled backward, away from the tree, and fell to the ground. Gathering his last strength, he dove behind a nearby bush, one hand clutching at his broken nose pitifully. He held his breath as the footsteps drew closer.

* * *

 **The part of the conversation at Hogwarts where Neville goes "I'm quite proud to be their son" doesn't belong to me. Nathan's quote " _The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."_ was said by G.K. Chesterson.  
**

 **This chapter wasn't beta-read so all mistakes belong to me. Feel free to point them out. By the way, sorry that I neglected Lucius so much. I had actually meant to post a chapter in which Narcissa visits him in Azkaban. Somehow, the scene never made it into the actual chapter though. It never felt like it really belonged. Sorry for that. I'm hoping the story will let me include more of Lucius from now on.**


	37. Chapter 36

**Happy New Year's Eve, guys! I hope you all had great holidays, no matter whether you spent them with your family and/or friends or by yourself or whether you even celebrated anything at all.  
**

 **I had originally meant to post a Yule special last Saturday but scrapped the idea on Christmas Eve because it didn't work out. That cost me a whole week so I started on this chapter fairly late and with literally no idea what to do. Not my best chapter but not unimportant either as it does answer some questions.**

 **Anyway, see you all in 2017!**

* * *

 _Night had fallen already, the sun having disappeared hours ago. July 31_ _st_ _was approaching quickly and the usual paperwork that always came with it had him tied to his desk for the third night in a row. His eyes were tired, his mind exhausted not only from the lack of sleep but also from the dull nature of the task at hand._

 _He was just about to call it a night, shortly after eleven, when the fireplace roared to life and nearly sent him jumping out of his skin. James Potter, with none of his usual grace, fell to the floor and Albus smiled gently, waiting for the younger man to get up. James made no move, however, and simply knelt there on the carpeted floor, his shoulders shaking. With a worried frown, Albus stood up and approached his former student.  
_

 _"James? What is wrong?"  
_

 _"Harry-" James sobbed. Dread settled in his stomach. "Harry- He- He's dead, Albus. My son- He- I can't-"_

 _Images of a laughing baby boy flooded his mind. The child's vivid green eyes as they shone with innocent joy and his soft, messy black hair that refused to do as it was told. Harry's tiny, pudgy form, not quite one year old. So strong and filled with such a desire to live, yet so weak and fragile, all at once. That precious baby boy, dead and gone long before his time._

 _"_ _James," he said quietly. "I'm so, so sorry, my boy."_

 _James nodded and desperately tried to stop the endless flow of tears. "It was so sudden. Just- Just two hours ago, he was just fine. My baby- he was happy. And then, like that, he stop- stopped breathing and- and- Merlin, Albus, my son is dead. My baby son."_

 _"_ _The pain a parent feels upon losing their child is the rawest pain imaginable," he said. "I'm very sorry that you have to go through this, James."  
_

 _They sat for almost half an hour, James kneeling on the floor and Albus beside him, patiently waiting for the distressed young man to gather his wits as best as he could. When his tears finally slowed and the sobs turned into hiccups, Albus helped James stand and moved him into a comfy chair by the fireplace._

 _"_ _Where is Lily now?"  
_

 _"Godric's Hollow," James said. "Harry too. Padfoot is with them. We just- we couldn't move him yet. I'll go to St. Mungo's next to- I have to- Harry needs a death certificate," he buried his face in his hands. "My son shouldn't need a death certificate, Albus. It's not fair! He's just a baby."_

 _"_ _I know, my boy. Unfortunately, Lady Fate is seldom fair. Harry didn't deserve to die so young and you didn't deserve to lose your child," he patted James' knee. "Go home, James. I will go to St. Mungo's and make the appropriate arrangements. Be with your wife and son for one last time. Everything else can wait for now."_

 _The black-haired man nodded, wiped his hands on his pants and shakily stepped into the fireplace. He threw a handful of floo powder to the ground and spoke the name of his lodging as clearly as he could manage, leaving Albus alone once more. He leant back and closed his eyes. Harry's happy smile flashed in front of him. Had the boy gotten the chance to grow up, Albus had little doubt that he would've turned out much like Remus Lupin. Smart and kind-hearted but with a persistent streak of mischievousness. Harry would've been bolder than young Remus, with more confidence and proper self-esteem. He would have been a good person, someone his parents could've been proud of._

 _And maybe, just maybe, he would have been the Chosen One. In a few years' time, that little baby would've grown into a boy who held the power needed to defeat Tom for once and for all. Now, that task could only fall to Neville Longbottom, the son of Frank and Alice. He didn't doubt that Neville would be up to the task- he was the child of two very proficient young people, after all. Little Neville would make a fine Chosen One._

 _He sighed. With no one else to qualify as the one the prophecy spoke about, he would have to inform Frank and Alice of their son's inevitable fate. Neville, who had turned one this very day, would either have to kill Tom or be killed by him. There was no middle ground, no other path to be taken._

 _But first, he needed to make sure that Harry Potter got a proper farewell. By the time Albus left Hogwarts, July 31_ _st_ _had started. The clock had just struck two am when he walked through the corridors of St. Mungo's and made his way toward the maternity station. He had always found it morbid that the deaths of minors had to be reported just down the hall from where the newborns slept but today, he found it plain inappropriate. Harry had been born in this very ward and had slept in that very nursery. He stopped in front of the window that looked into the nursery and glanced toward the cradle Harry had occupied this time last year. There, sleeping tight and peacefully was a baby boy, wrapped up in a blue blanket. The child's name, Finian Malfoy, floated above his head and beside him, equally as snuggly wrapped but wide-awake, was another boy, Eoin._

 _He had heard of Lady Malfoy's pregnancy. The Daily Prophet had reported on it when the announcement first came out. Twin sons, one to replace the Malfoy's firstborn son, a little boy with a terminal illness, and another one to serve as scion. The twins' arrival would secure the Malfoy line once and for all._

 _Eoin's eyes, disoriented and too young to focus on anything properly, flitted by him. Like all newborns, little Eoin was the most innocent being to have ever existed. Both he and his twin brother were blank slates, with their lives ahead of them. Soon enough, they would walk and talk. Their impressionable minds would be filled with tales of pureblood supremacy and their magic would be trained to perform acts of Dark Magic at will. Those innocent babies would likely grow up into pompous boys, spoilt and arrogant, especially since their uncle, Cicero Malfoy, had died over a year ago. Between Cicero and Lucius Malfoy, Albus had always placed his hopes in Cicero._

 _He was the elder brother and equipped with a kinder and braver soul than Lucius. Whilst he didn't love Muggleborns and their non-magical kin, he had never expressed a wish to see them dead either. When the war had begun in earnest, Cicero had chosen to fight with Albus instead of Tom, effectively putting himself on the side of the war that opposed his brother's ideals._

 _As he looked upon the twin brothers, he felt desperation and pity rise in him. The boys didn't know of the lives their parents would force them into or the horrible crimes they would be made to endorse and commit. They didn't know that one day, soon, they would support a cause that was pure evil._

 _It's not fair!, James' voiced echoed in his brain and Albus found himself agreeing whole-heartedly. It wasn't fair that on the day Lily and James, a kind-hearted and loving couple, lost their only child, Lucius Malfoy, a vile, angry man, was gifted two more sons by his wife. It just wasn't fair. So many better people deserved to have a child but were unable to have one but Lucius Malfoy with all of his evil thoughts and concepts became the father of three sons within thirteen months. He didn't deserve those babies. He didn't have any right to darken their minds and turn their hearts into ice._

 _On a whim, Albus slipped into the nursery, invisible and without making a single sound. The boy's eyes were blue, as vivid as Harry's green eyes had been, and the tuft of hair on his head was almost white. He was the picture of aristocracy, the perfect blend of Malfoy and Black. One day, when the boy and his brother were grown up, they would make handsome young men._

 _Eoin squirmed in his swaddling clothes and untucked his right arm. A tiny bracelet was on his wrist with his name written upon it. Albus took the child from his cradle and rocked him gently, smiling at the soft noises the boy made._

Albus would never forget that moment that changed the entire Wizarding World. He would never forget the surge of love and protectiveness that washed over him as he held little Eoin Malfoy in his arms and rocked him to sleep, trying to envision what the child's future would be like. He would never quite understand what exactly had made him walk into the nursery. More importantly, he would never really be able to figure out what he had been trying to achieve when he walked out of the nursery again with the child still in his arms. Had little Finian not awoken and made a fuss, Albus was rather sure he would have left the younger brother in his cradle, where he belonged. But the child fussed and Albus, ridden by emotions, had taken him as well.

He hadn't meant any harm. He simply wanted to save them from a dreary, dark life that would see them in the services of Tom, doomed to a lowly existence as Death Eaters. Only later, when he had returned to his office, had he realised what he had done and had almost- _almost_ \- brought the twins back. But then he had remembered James and how broken he was and his mind wandered to Minerva's daughter, young Aria, and her husband Kelvin, unable to have a child of their own, and he had made a decision. He had been sure that it was for the best- for everyone. The boys would grow up happy. They would grow up with a good set of morals and loving families. That Eoin might be able to step into Harry's spot in regards to the prophecy was only an added bonus, so to speak.

He knew he didn't regret his actions nearly as much as he should but all things considered, he thought everything _had_ indeed worked out for the better. Eoin, to no little surprise to Albus, became the Chosen One despite the fact that he didn't truly fit the description given by the prophecy. Yes, he had grown up under less than favourable conditions with Lily's resentful sister and her ignorant husband but it had turned him into a good and loyal young man. He was kind and true to his heart. He was tolerant and loving, protective of those who he cared for and who couldn't defend themselves and honourable in every sense of the word. He was the sort of boy any parent could be proud of- Albus certainly was proud of him.

As for Finian, he had gotten a great life. Growing up under the persona of Nathan Longbottom, he had experienced the best childhood any boy could ask for. He had been beloved and cherished all his life, adored by almost every single person he had met. He was raised on books and stories, enriching his mind and equipping him with a vast array of knowledge and wisdom for a boy his age.

Even for Narcissa, the twins' biological mother, the story had a happy end. Her eldest son, thriving under the undivided attention placed upon him, had miraculously survived his illness and her younger sons had been returned to her at fourteen years of age, with plenty of time to spare for her to get to know them- or Finian at least. It pained him deeply but Albus knew, with horrible certainty, that Eoin would not survive the war. For Tom to die, the boy who grew up as Harry Potter would have to be killed as well and by Tom's hand no less. That his own actions had led to the child's inevitable murder was one of Albus' greatest regrets. Eoin didn't deserve to have been thrust into such a life- no child deserved that.

As it was, the beginning of the second war was approaching quickly and Albus, no matter how little he cared for the task, would have to start preparing Harry soon. The news of the mass breakout from Azkaban had reached him just minutes earlier. It was concerning, albeit not surprising, that Tom was trying to gather his former inner circle. With loyal servants like Bellatrix Lestrange locked up for life, he had expected that there would be a breakout sooner rather than later, especially now that he could not dare appear in public for fear of being arrested and taken away to Azkaban if the wrong man saw him.

He hated having to stay in hiding. It did no one any good for him to be rot away in a little hut atop a mountain, with only minimal contact to the world. Members of the Order kept him updated on all that happened and a special owl, trained to fly to several different locations before coming to him, delivered the Prophet to him every time a new edition was released. Severus would arrive soon. His position with the Dark Lord, thankfully, hadn't been compromised beyond repair after Lucius' arrest and Narcissa's betrayal. The younger man hadn't come from his first meeting after the battle of Malfoy Manor unscratched but he certainly had had worse. With the breakout, Tom was sure to summon his circle and Severus with them. He hoped his spy would bring him news of a grand scheme- Tom needed to pull a stint large enough that no one could deny his return any longer and once that happened, Albus could come back as well, his name and glory restored and with the faith of the world once more resting with him.

It was close to midnight when he finally saw the black figure creeping up the mountain side. A slender person, a woman by all looks of it, was by his side. Albus frowned. As they got closer, he could make out the hooked nose of Severus Snape, the greasy black hair that framed his shallow face and the dark eyes that knew only one emotion. Narcissa Black was walking beside him, easily keeping pace with his long strides. She looked more gaunt than the last time he had seen her picture in the Prophet, the day she divorced Lucius and was awarded custody of all three of her sons.

He opened the door before they reached his narrow porch and smiled at them, his hands clasped before him.

"Severus, my dear boy," he said. "Miss Black, what a pleasure to see you again. Come in, I'm certain there are a lot of things that need discussing. Tea? A lemon drop, perhaps?"

"A what?" Narcissa asked.

"A lemon drop. A Muggle sweet. One of the few luxuries I can afford in my current state, alas."

"No, thank you, Albus," Severus said curtly, taking his stand by the fireplace. Narcissa sat in the armchair closest to the door as Albus sat back in the purple one by the stove.

"What news do you have for me, Severus?"

"The breakout, as expected, was the Dark Lord's work. I had not been involved in the planning."

"Yes, I do assume a Potion's Master would be of little help in this regard. The Prophet was vague- is there many a familiar face among the escaped?"

"Indeed. Eleven of the Dark Lord's former most trusted fled successfully, nine have returned to him so far. The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Rookwood, Travers and Mulciber among others."

"No word of your sister and husband, Miss Black?"

"Ex-husband," she corrected stiffly. "As Severus informed me, Lucius split from the group early on and fled. My sister went after him."

"She swore to bring back nothing but his head," Severus added. "The Dark Lord cares little for the matter. He ordered Rodolphus to find her and bring her back in a timely manner. Lucius takes no priority for now."

He nodded. "Has he attempted to contact either of you?"

"No but that's not surprising. Lucius will know that he won't be able to find Narcissa unless she reveals herself to him and he can't contact me until he finds a way to do so secretly and without arousing suspicion."

He leant back. So far, none of the information was surprising in the least, nor very useful to him. It was good to hear that Tom wasn't going after Lucius Malfoy, however. He needed the man alive and unharmed, for the sake of the Black boys. He suspected that neither Harry nor Nathan cared for the man but that he would potentially lose Draco if harm came to his father. "Have you spoken with your sons yet, Miss Black?"

"I have not," she said. "I will return to Hogwarts with Severus and see them for myself."

"I saw Finian and Draco before I left for Headquarters. Draco was in distress but Finian appeared controlled enough. I suspect they met with P- Eoin and their extended group of…friends to discuss the situation."

"Speaking of Eoin, I do wonder, how is he adjusting so far? This is certainly no easy situation for a boy to slip into."

"You tell me," Narcissa said, narrowing her eyes. "You're the one who brought him into this situation by kidnapping him and his brother from their cradles," she took a deep breath. "That is what I am here about. I have been consulting with Aria and Kelvin Longbottom, my son's adoptive parents, and I want some answers from you."

He smiled at her encouragingly and she went on. "When my sons were born, they weren't perfectly healthy. They were premature and suffered the consequence. From what little I could gather, Harry seems to have recovered completely but Nathan still would occasionally struggle to breath among other things. What did you do? Why was one boy healed and the other not?"

He sighed. "I gave them a potion called Chorion-"

"Chorion?" Severus perked up. "Albus, you old fool, that potion is highly experimental to this day."

"I know, Severus. However, I believed it to be the boys' best chance. It worked for Harry flawlessly, with the exception of his rather small frame. I was certain it had worked for Nathan as well but when he was five weeks old, Kelvin floo called me. He was hysterical because the baby had stopped breathing and was turning blue. Madam Pomfrey saved the child and rid him of his symptoms until the cure was found by Muggles when he was ten years old."

The mother looked down onto her folded hands, which lay in her lap, and processed what she had just been told. Then, after a while, she looked back up at him with eyes that looked as cold as the stormiest winter. "Did you plan it all along? When you found out Harry Potter was going to die, did you plan for my son to be his replacement? To make my boy fit for a prophecy which wasn't meant for him?"

"No," he said sincerely. "I hadn't. When I heard of your pregnancy, I thought nothing of it. I knew Harry was sick but I never wanted to imagine him dead so I never made any plans. I saw your sons in the nursery. Finian was asleep in the cradle that Harry had once slept in and Eoin was wide awake beside him. It was an impulsive reaction."

"Are you sorry? Do you regret it?"

"I am," and he meant it. "I am terribly sorry for all the pain I caused you and I am sorry for what I made Harry and now Nathan go through. I apologise and hope you find it in yourself to forgive me."

For a moment, he thought she was going to reject his apology, however true it was. He did really mean it. He knew he had caused her unimaginable pain. He had made her grieve the loss of her baby boys for fourteen years and had dragged Eoin into a war that wasn't his own and now, there was no way to take it back. Eoin was the Chosen One and he needed to fulfil his purpose.

Narcissa nodded slowly. "Fine. I…forgive you. But I need you to do something for me."

"Anything if it's in my power."

"I need you to come back," she said. "Come back and save my sons."

It was time. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore needed to return.

* * *

 _ **Chorion**_ **is Latin and means 'Afterbirth'. It's a potion I made up which is supposed to basically bring preemies up to speed development-wise. It never passed the experimental stage and was never released to the public. Albus obtained one through less than legal means and got really lucky that it worked for Eoin and didn't cause the boys any further harm. But, you know. Good intentions and all.**

 **Also, the poll regarding the name change is still open. So far, only three people have voted and they have voted for three different options so it's not a decisive result as of yet. I'm gonna keep the poll open for at least another month. It'd be really awesome if you could vote, it takes just a few seconds.**


	38. Chapter 37

**This chapter feels very chunky toward the end (to me at least). School started this week and I haven't gotten around to writing. I finished it just now (it's 1:30 am for me) because I didn't want to miss an update. Sorry for that. After Week 1, I usually get into a good rhythm so I might revisit this chapter within the fortnight. I hope y'all had a great start into 2017!**

* * *

As they climbed down the mountainside, it took all of her willpower to fight against the ever growing urge to turn back, storm into that hut and give the old fool a piece of her mind. She had granted him forgiveness, although in word only, and she had done so because she just knew it was for the best. For now, for as long as her boys needed his protection, she couldn't dare risk lose it just to satisfy her own need for revenge. Dumbledore, loathe as she was to admit it, was the only person capable of saving Harry from what was to come. Her son had done the saving for far too long. Now it was time for her to finally step up and make true the promise she made to Draco, Nathan and Harry each, on the days of their births.

"We will apparate to Hogwarts straight away," Severus said. "Curfew has only started an hour ago. It is rather unlikely that any of them will be asleep already."

She nodded. "How have they been doing? Have the twins been successful in regaining their balance yet?"

"Certainly not," said Severus at once. "Finian, I presume, will find his balance by himself. The disruption to his core was minor in comparison to your other son's. Eoin, on the other hand, will require help."

"And will you be able and willing to offer this help?"

"I am able, no doubt, and will do so."

Ignoring that he avoided making any statement on his willingness to help Harry, she smiled at him gratefully. "You could call them Nathan and Harry. Everyone does, it seems, and they certainly prefer it."

"Draco calls them by their former last names still. I don't care what they would prefer. I'm their professor and they shall put up with whatever I decide to call them."

"You're their godfather as well. There was a time when you were only too happy to love them."

"They were unborn children then and hadn't been corrupted by the spoiling ways of their guardians yet."

She pursed her lips. "Nathan was loved, yes, but I doubt Harry received more than the barest necessities from those Muggles he lived with."

He snorted. "Have you paid them a visit? I know you meant to."

"No, I haven't but I will soon. Maybe you should accompany me and see for yourself the home my son, your godson, grew up in. Perhaps that will let you see him as he truly is."

"Maybe I shall. Do you wish to return to Headquarters and floo into my office or will you apparate to Hogsmeade with me?"

"I'll go to Headquarters first," she said. "My niece asked to speak to me earlier and I think it would be quite rude of me to stall her for too long. Merlin knows the girl is far too impatient for her own good."

"Or anyone else's. I'll have your sons in my quarters. Don't take too long, I would prefer if my rooms weren't being haunted by three hormonal, overtly exhausted teenage boys."

He turned on the spot and disappeared, leaving Narcissa standing by the Cliffside. It was a beautiful night out and for a moment, she envied Dumbledore for the breath-taking view of the starry sky he had from his hut. From the windows of Grimmauld Place, all she could see were more houses, grey and faded.

It was at times like these that she missed Malfoy Manor the most. It was a gorgeous home, magnificent and ancient. It was on a plot of land far removed from any others, giving them all the privacy they desired. The backyard was easily twice the size of the actual house, with plenty of room for a playground and a Quidditch plot, which they had installed for Draco when he was a little boy, and a beautiful garden that the Ladies of House Malfoy had nourished for several centuries.

All of it was in ruins now. After she had fled with her sons, the Order had arrived and battled the Death Eaters. The house was the battle's only casualty. She hadn't returned since but the descriptions Nymphadora and Lupin offered her were more than enough to create a mental image she didn't want to confirm. Even if she wanted to, there would be no way for her to do so without being killed. The Dark Lord, in a sadistic manner typical for him, had declared her home as his Headquarter. Severus had informed her that her former master had ordered the Death Eaters and a small army of House Elves to rebuild part of the house, just enough for him to hold his meetings, keep prisoners and live in. The master bedroom, her bedroom, was now inhabited by the monster that wanted to see her son dead. It was a chilly thought. Grimmauld Place, dull as it might be, was at least safe for the time being.

When she returned to the house, she found her sister's daughter waiting for her in the lounge room.

"Good evening, Nymphadora," she said. Even though she'd been seeing the girl almost every day for two months now, she had never quite managed to build anything resembling a familial relationship with her. Andy, she supposed, would've found it easy to connect with Harry but she hadn't been around very much. According to Nymphadora, her mother was usually off, completing either work related tasks or doing the odd job for the Order. She, unlike Narcissa, was a fully trusted member. No one doubted her loyalties the least and since she wasn't cooped up at Grimmauld Place and reliant on it as a hiding place, she was one of the few designated people who could really do much of anything.

"Hullo," the girl said. "Back already?"

"I will be off to visit the boys after we're done here."

"Oh," she said. "Well, you didn't have to come here just for this. My mum just wanted me to make arrangements for the holidays with you."

"What sort of arrangements?"

"For Nate. Will he be coming home for the holidays?"

"Yes, of course. He and his brothers are all coming. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Nymphadora nodded. "Um, yes, of course. See, the thing is, ever since Nate was born, the Longbottoms spent Yule with us. It's a family tradition and we don't want to stop it. So, Mum said that since you, Draco and Harry are family too, we should invite you."

Stunned, Narcissa looked at her niece. She hadn't expected for Andy to want to celebrate Yuletide with her- granted, the invitation had likely only been extended so that Nathan would get to celebrate with both of his families but if her sister had been completely against it, she wouldn't have suggested it or gone as far as telling her daughter to deliver the message.

"Yes," she said quickly before she could talk herself out of it. "I should like that. Tell your mother thank you."

"Course."

Narcissa, for a moment, stayed seated but almost immediately felt the awkwardness that lay in the air after Nymphadora's last word and stood up abruptly, eager to leave and see her boys.

"I am going to visit the boys at Hogwarts," she said. "Would you like me to bring Nathan a message from you?"

Her niece seemed startled but recovered quickly. "Tell him I can't wait to see him."

She nodded and left without a goodbye as not to make the situation any more awkward. As she walked to the closest fireplace, however, she couldn't help but dwell on Nymphadora's message to Nathan. She had no doubt that her son would share the sentiment. Every time she had seen the two of them together, they had been as thick as thieves. Even when they weren't together, there always seemed to be some sort of understanding between them, the kind that only family has. The day they arrived at Grimmauld Place, Nymphadora had taken one look at Nathan and instantly figured out that he was overwhelmed and removed him from the situation, whereas Narcissa could only stand by and wonder why she hadn't caught the signs. It was the same understanding Harry had with the Weasleys and the Granger girl, the one Draco had with her.

Over the two months she'd been reunited with the twins, it had happened time and time again that she'd been confronted with the ugly truth that her children had, in one way or another, made families for themselves. She was comforted by that thought most of the time. The rest of it, the reality of that thought made her sad. She was supposed to be her sons' rock, the person who gave them the love and stability they craved and needed. Their traditions ought to be the ones she taught them. Even their accents reminded her of Harry and Nathan's otherness. Harry's was the accent of Surrey- English but no less different than Nathan's Scottish accent.

Hogwarts was already quiet when Narcissa arrived. Even Severus' quarters were silent, the only noise being the roaring fireplace. Her three sons were seated on the sofa in front of it, Nathan and Draco on either side of Harry. Draco's face lit up as soon as his eyes found hers and even the twins smiled at her genuinely. Her heart burst at the sight- her beautiful boys, her precious sons. She looked at Harry and felt that same heart explode with anger. Umbridge, that vile, spiteful woman, had dared to put a hand on her precious child, had dared to break his skin and draw his blood. His hand was scarred, she could see at first glance, the smooth, pale skin disrupted by the pink words.

"My boys," she finally said, tearing her eyes away from Harry's hand and settling on their faces. She smiled gently.

Draco stood up and stepped into her embrace, easily melting into the familiar touch. "It's good to see you, Mother. I was glad when Severus told us you were coming."

As soon as Draco sat down, Nathan stood up but not to hug her as his brother had. "Are you taking us home?"

"No," she said decidedly. "Your place is here."

She expected him to put up a fight, to demand to be brought away to see his family but instead, he nodded his head once, entirely satisfied. "Good because we weren't going to let you do that anyway."

"Is the Order doing something?" Harry asked.

She sighed- she knew it was too much to expect the twins to greet them as sons should greet their mother, especially at times like these. Harry, since he was only ten years old, had been raised to be a soldier. She shouldn't expect him to stop being a soldier and start being a son, not when a war was brewing around him.

"Yes," she said. "Plans are being made as we speak but there's not too much to be done. The Ministry links this breakout to Sirius' escape. I'm afraid he won't accept the Dark Lord's return until he has seen him for himself."

"I don't suppose we could draw him out, could we?" Nathan asked.

"Don't be daft, boy," Severus snarled from his place in the corner. "The Dark Lord won't fall for such a trick."

"Don't call my son daft, Severus. The Order has toyed with this idea, after all, before we decided it was too risky to try."

Harry worried his lip. "So what is going to happen then?"

She hesitated. Since the day Dumbledore had been forced into hiding, she hadn't talked to either of her sons regarding their feelings for the man. She knew that Harry had idolised him before. Dumbledore had been his knight in shining armour, the man who made everything alright. For Nathan, he had been somewhat of a grandfather if the tales Nymphadora, Aria and Kelvin regaled her with were true. An estranged grandfather, granted, but a grandfather nonethe less. Draco, on the other hand, had never held him in high regard. He'd been glad when Nymphadora brought them the news of his disappearance.

"We're bringing back Dumbledore."

The boys stared at her gobsmacked for a few seconds. Then, slowly, Draco's face merged to show his anger and Nathan's transformed into one of ecstasy. She frowned- the emotions of her sons' faces were polar opposites and yet they had never looked more like Lucius than they did at that moment. Shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the confusing realisation, she focused on Harry, who continued to look at her in shock.

"That's great!" Nathan said. "With Dumbledore back, we'll be rid of Umbridge soon! Everything will be easier once she's gone-"

"Longbottom, you can be so stupid sometimes," snapped Draco. "The only thing that coot will achieve by coming back is his permanent arrest."

Harry snapped out of his stupor and glared at his older brother. "Don't call him stupid. He's right. Dumbledore won't come back until he knows exactly how he can do it without being arrested."

"I agree," she said, looking at Draco sternly. "Do not call your brothers names, Draco. As Harry said, Nathan is quite right. It doesn't matter whether we like him- and believe me, I don't like him- but he's one of the smartest wizards alive today. He won't rush headfirst into a situation he can't manage. Trust me."

"I don't trust any of them-"

"I'm not asking you to do that, my love. I _am_ asking you to trust _me_. Trust your brothers and your godfather. If no one else, these are the people that will always be by your side, just as I expect you to stand with Harry and Nathan."

She left Hogwarts shortly after midnight. If it had been her choice to make, she would've stayed much longer but she could plainly see Nathan struggling to keep his eyes open and Harry's attention kept drifting off. Even so, she enjoyed her visit with them. After the matter with Dumbledore had been settled, Severus left them and they had talked of sweet nothings, regaling each other with stories of what had happened since they last met. Harry had told them of Luna Lovegood, the girl Nathan spent most of his time with, a cheeky grin on his face. Nathan had only blushed, saying that Luna was just a friend and Narcissa was inclined to believe him. In turn, Nathan had mentioned Ginny Weasley and the crush she used to have on Harry whilst Draco snickered on.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, she saw her three precious boys with their beautiful smiles, talking and laughing. For one night, they had acted like the brothers they were. For one night, her family had felt complete.


	39. Chapter 38

Nine hundred years ago, a noble Frenchman by the name of Armand Malfoy sailed from his home country to England and settled on a plot of land in Wiltshire, removed from any civilisation by several miles, that had been given to him by one Muggle King or another. Upon his death, Armand's son, as pure of blood as his father and his father before him, inherited the Manor, as was common practice. Ever since then, scarcely any child born into the Malfoy Family had been of lesser blood. No Mudblood had ever disgraced those magnificent halls and looked upon the ancient portrays. He had studied the Malfoys' history when he was a boy, a long time ago. He had studied all worthy Houses- not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had escaped his notice. Some of them, the Weasleys and Potters most notably, had been less than suitable for his cause but most of them had stuck to the traditions almost admirably.

Abraxas Malfoy had not been quite twenty years old when he had joined his ranks. The man had served loyally, up until the moment his firstborn son, Cicero, had chosen the wrong side to stand on. Lucius had joined him nonetheless but he hadn't been interested in the younger Malfoy brother until Cicero died and Lucius expectantly became his father's sole heir.

Now, Malfoy Manor lay in ruins. It was a shell of a building with none of its former magnificence. He had ordered his Death Eaters to restore the formal dining room and the rooms once inhabited by Lucius and his wench of a wife for his own use. It was far from ideal, certainly, but the satisfaction he drew from it was enough to make up for the Manor's shabby state.

Lucius, the cowering fool, had betrayed him like the simpleton he was. He had chosen to keep the Potter boy's identity hidden for longer than a week and had yielded to Dumbledore's pet werewolf with no delay. All of his Death Eaters had fled the scene swiftly, all but Lucius, who had knelt on the floor and had surrendered his wand, sobbing pathetically over his wife, who was no less of a traitor.

Letting Lucius escape from Azkaban alongside his loyal servants was a game of cat and mouse that he would greatly enjoy watching. The traitor served no purpose anymore but he wasn't a priority either. In due time, he would make an example of Lucius to discourage others from following his lead but until then, he'd let him run for his life, worthless as it might be.

No…Lucius served no purpose. _Narcissa_ , however…He smiled.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep well that night, nor the one after that. His dreams of the door, reoccurring and almost familiar now, were interrupted by dreams of the battle of Malfoy Manor. He saw Cedric be killed over and over, in a dozen different ways. Malfoy's pained face appeared as well, kneeling on the floor and begging Narcissa to hand Harry over to Voldemort. Sometimes, his mother consented but most of the time, she refused him. Nathan and Draco conspired against him and hit him from behind as they fled from the library before pulling him up again and urging him to run, concern etched onto their faces. No matter which dream came to him, he woke up sweaty and panting. Twice, Dean Thomas had sat up in bed and looked around confused before falling asleep again, promptly enough that he didn't realise what had woken him.

When Thursday rolled around, he was tired and it showed. The bags beneath his eyes stood out harshly against his skin.

"You should see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione insisted, as she had the previous days.

"I'm fine."

"Harry-"

"Hermione, I'm fine," he said. "Really. Can we just go to class?"

She eyed him sceptically but nodded.

Harry hated Tuesdays. To start the morning off, he had a double period of Potions, which was easily the most miserable class, second only to DADA, which he had to sit through in the afternoon for two hours. His only reprieves were Transfiguration and History- Craydon was the only of the Ministry appointed professors who wasn't foul or out to get them.

Potions went by very slowly. Just like the day before, it felt as though Snape was hovering behind him at any given moment, ready to insult Harry and his potion, which would earn him a D for Dreadful if he was lucky. At the end of class, he was almost out of the door when Snape's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Black, stay behind."

Ron and Neville shot him sympathetic looks as they hurried by him, just as eager to escape as he had been only a second before, and closed the door behind him. For a few moments, he remained standing with his back to Snape before slowly turning around and marching to the desk.

"Yes?"

"Yes, _sir_."

Harry pressed his lips together to keep from saying something stupid- he truly couldn't use detention at the moment- and nodded jerkily. Snape waited, as though he was expecting Harry to correct himself, but then simply sighed annoyed and glared at him.

"Professor McGonagall tells me you haven't improved yet."

"I've still got two weeks."

"Less," said Snape. "As it is, I think it might be not ideal to leave you to your own devices for any longer. From now on, you will attend weekly sessions with me where I will train you to once more control your magic."

He gaped at the man- the git couldn't truly mean that! "But-"

"This is not up for discussion, boy. Your mother approves of this."

He would've gladly shouted at Snape that he didn't care, that his mother couldn't demand this of him but found himself tongue-tied- for the first time in his life, he had felt safe with his guardian. He didn't doubt that his mother wanted only what was best for him, other than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who'd only done what needed to be done to uphold their pristine reputation.

"Fine," he spat. "When?"

"I took the liberty to look over your schedule. Tuesdays will likely work best, directly after dinner. We will start next week."

Harry nodded. "And Nathan?"

"While I don't see how Longbottom's progress is any of your business, the boy will not need these sessions. His balance is improving by itself."

He gritted his teeth. "And why isn't mine?"

"I told you before, Potter. Your core was disrupted more than Longbottom's was, due to the aging potion you were given. Furthermore, the potion the Headmaster gave you both to improve your health only worked on you."

Harry blinked. "He gave us a potion? What for?"

"As is common with twins, you were born prematurely. Lucius told me very little of the hour he had with you but he said that both of you stopped breathing repeatedly, for a few seconds each time. The Headmaster gave you a potion that was supposed to ensure that you wouldn't appear as a premature child. It worked on you but not on Longbottom. Ask him yourself if you want information on his health. Now leave, I have a class to teach."

In the evening, tired of yet another mundane class with Umbridge, Harry ate scarcely anything. As of lately, he hadn't felt much of a hunger, especially in the evenings. Hermione had yet to notice so he figured it couldn't be too bad- Hermione always noticed if anything got out of control, it was almost as though she had a sixth sense for these type of things.

He kept his eyes trained on Nathan all throughout the meal, vividly remembering his brother's first morning in Malfoy Manor. That day, Nathan had woken him early in the morning and had urged him to hurry because he didn't want to be left alone with the Malfoys during breakfast. It seemed as though years had passed since that day, even though it had only been three months now. It might as well have been years, however. Nathan had certainly changed enough. These days, Draco and his friends often went to sit with Nathan. Harry was sure it was mostly due to Daphne Greengrass trying to build bridges, as Neville had described it once, rather than Draco wanting to spend time with Nathan but he still thought it meant a great deal- or at the very least that Nathan was now comfortable sharing a meal with Draco without seeming anxious about the whole thing.

Nathan looked up from his meal and caught his eye. Harry, startled, indicated his head toward the door. His brother nodded, excused himself and stood up. Harry did the same and they met up just outside the Great Hall.

"Is something wrong?" Nathan asked.

"No," said Harry. "No, I was just wondering about something. Snape said that when we were taken, Dumbledore gave us some potion to fix our health but he said it didn't work on you."

"Oh. Yeah, I had some issues when I was younger but it wasn't serious."

"He said you'd stop breathing."

"I did. After it happened for the first time, when I was five weeks old, Madam Pomfrey put a spell on me, though. It monitored my breathing when I slept and alerted her and my parents if I stopped."

"Did that happen a lot?"

Nathan shrugged. "No. I think I was seven or eight when it last happened. I was never in real danger, though. It was just scary waking up to my dad comforting my crying mother, nothing more. The Muggles found a cure when I was ten. I'm fine now."

They stood in silence. Harry suddenly felt very awkward- of course, Nathan was fine now. He hadn't been sick even once since they'd met. Is that what it felt like to be a brother? Constantly worrying over siblings, even when there was no reason to do so? Harry wasn't sure. The closest thing to a brother he had growing up was Dudley. His cousin certainly never gave him any reason to even care about his health- Harry didn't want him sick or dead but he wouldn't be surprised should Dudley fall ill or injure himself during a boxing match.

Nathan looked at him expectantly. "Was there anything else?"

"Uh, no. Not really."

"Okay. Well, thanks for asking, I guess," he said, clearly as awkward as Harry. "You know, you shouldn't worry so much about me. I can hold my own and I'll tell you if I get sick."

They were about to part ways when Nathan turned around again. "Before I forget- Draco said he wanted us to meet on Friday. You haven't got detention, do you?"

"No. Friday's fine. Just us?"

He shook his head. "Bring your friends. He specifically said that we should bring all of them."

Harry frowned but nodded. He watched as Nathan walked off.

September was drawing to a close- _finally_. It felt as though the month had been going on forever. It was hard to believe it truly was less than a month since he'd returned to school. Everything seemed different this year, even though he knew a lot had stayed the same.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about Dumbledore's upcoming return. When they met again, would he see the grandfatherly figure that had saved him from the Dursleys? Or would Harry only be able to see the man who had kidnapped him and condemned him to a life that wasn't his?

Sometimes, he wondered about the real Harry Potter. Had _Harry_ lived, would they have been enemies? Would the real Harry have been in Gryffindor whilst he, Eoin, went to Slytherin? Might they have been friends had he been sorted into Gryffindor against the odds or would he simply have been an outsider? He would've been in Ginny's year, not Ron and Hermione's, but it was only a year difference. Would the real Harry have accepted a Gryffindor Malfoy?

It angered him, _frustrated_ him, that he would never know for sure. All he could do was speculate and listen to people inform him about their opinions on the matter, but he'd never truly know who he could've been. And it was all Dumbledore's fault.

 _Why?_ He yearned for the day when he could look him in the eye and ask him that question. _Why? Why me? Why not my brother? Why me?_

* * *

 **Let me know what you thought of Voldemort's POV at the beginning. I wanted to include it for set-up purposes but I wasn't sure how to write it since we don't really get his POV in the canon books. Too sane? I was struggling with that. I'd appreciate your feedback on this.  
**

 **Also, the poll is still going! So far, _Neverland, Retrovailles_ and _What's in a Name?_ are in the lead with three votes each. **

**I'm hoping to get the next chapter done in a fortnight but it's my sister's birthday today (Saturday) and it'll be my birthday next Saturday and then the Superbowl the following night and an exam that week plus some assignments and a speech I have to get done for next week so I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done. I'm optimistic, though. Just a bit of a head's up.**

 **QUESTION:**

 **Narcissa's reaction: This isn't over yet but she had to prioritise. Between her sons' protection and her revenge, her boys are more important to her. Nuff said.**


	40. Chapter 39

**Sorry that this chapter is a bit late. I've been sick the past few days and still am. This chapter, we finally return to Draco. I've been meaning to get back to his POV for a while now but it never really felt right. George R. R. Martin said there's two types of writers, the architect and the gardener and I'm most definitely a gardener, so... Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Curfew had begun a few minutes ago. Draco, as had become the norm over the past three weeks, was sitting at a table near the window, Longbottom opposite of him. A batch of candles hovered above the table, illuminating the books he had spread before him. The common room was filled with Ravenclaws, idly chatting by the fireplace, reading or studying. Most Slytherins never bothered to leave their dorms after curfew, happy enough to keep their distance to this club of bookworms. Draco had attempted to do the same, until Longbottom had barged in on him one evening and told him that Mother was worried. After that, Draco stayed out in the common room until he grew tired or Longbottom went to sleep, whichever came first. Tonight, he supposed he'd retire long before his menace of a brother would. The boy had a potions essay due for the following day and had, like an idiot, procrastinated writing it until the very last minute. It would take him hours to catch up- like his bumbling cousin, this Longbottom was hopeless when it came to Potions. He knew the bare essentials but little more, unable to grasp the concept. He wondered if it was in his blood- Potter was useless too, after all, and Father had told him that his brother, Cicero, had only barely managed to pass his N.E.W.T.s.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Longbottom listlessly thumbed through his textbook and rolled his eyes.

"What is your essay about?"

Longbottom glanced up at him. "Antidotes. How they work and why."

"And that's giving you trouble? It's not a difficult topic."

"For you, maybe," he grumbled. "But I'm not a natural, if you haven't noticed. I understand the _how_ but not the _why_. I don't see why it's important. So long as I know how it works and _that_ it works, I'm in the clear, right?"

"Potions Masters need to know why a Potion works the way it does to recreate the effect and figure out different Potions using similar ingredients. They can't do that unless they know why certain plants react with each other and the likes."

"Well, I won't be a Potions Master so it doesn't really matter either way."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What do you want to be after Hogwarts, then?"

"A curse breaker," Longbottom said at once. "Like my dad."

He nodded, remembering how Longbottom had assessed the wards at Malfoy Manor the day they were attacked. "You need to take your N.E.W.T.s for that."

Longbottom grimaced. "I know. Your mother wrote to me the other day. Snape told her I wasn't doing well and she said your uncle was just the same."

"Uncle Cicero," he supplied. "He was Father's brother."

"The older one," Longbottom murmured. "The true Lord Malfoy. I know the story."

Draco frowned. As far as he knew, there was hardly anyone who even remembered his uncle. His father had taken great care that the public's memory of Cicero would die. He knew his father had loved Cicero. _Just in case. They might start to think we stole my brother's inheritance otherwise,_ Father used to say. "You do?"

"Yes. My father's uncle, Barty Crouch Senior, was in the same year as your uncle."

"I didn't know you were close to him."

He shrugged. "I used to be. When I was younger, he'd come over every other weekend. One day, when I was seven years old and your father had made the headlines because of one thing or another, he told me the story. Said to be careful and to always choose the right side. He didn't want me to follow in Barty's footsteps, I reckon. I was his only heir," the boy lapsed into silence before shaking his head. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. They're both gone now. I'm Lord Crouch now. De facto, at least. Can we just go back to Potions, please?"

Draco nodded and watched as Longbottom went back to flicking the pages. He frowned- was Longbottom hurting because of Crouch's death? He'd never shown any sign. He never talked about him or his death. Maybe he ought to write Mother- she'd know exactly what to do and take care of it. For now, he'd just have to help Longbottom through his Potions essay.

"You're using the wrong book," he finally said.

"We only have this one."

"I know. Severus wants you to do research outside the materials provided. Here, use my book. It covers more."

Longbottom took the offered volume and grinned when he found the desired information. "Thank you."

* * *

He did end up writing a letter to Mother, that very same evening, describing his uncomfortable interaction with Longbottom to her. If the boy was grieving, Draco did not want his to be the shoulder Longbottom wept on. His mother was far better suited for that purpose. Longbottom would be over it in no time.

He slept uneasily that night, as he had the previous once. His father was out there. Somewhere, he was roaming, running from the sister-in-law that wanted to take his head for a trophy. The knowledge that his father was fighting for his life didn't sit well with him- he doubted anyone but Bellatrix Lestrange was looking for him. Not even Mother had seemed too concerned with finding him and Severus had only remarked that it wasn't safe for them to get in touch.

"Soon," Severus had said. "The Headmaster will be back soon. We will move forward then."  
Reaching out to his father would compromise Severus' position. Draco understood that. He was a spy, after all, and very valuable for the war efforts. It didn't make the uncertainty any easier to bear, however. For all he knew, his father was being killed viciously at any given moment, drawing his last breath lonely and abandoned whilst they slept in warm, comfortable beds in a castle secured with every ward known to humankind.

His first class of the morning was Defence Against the Dark Arts. It had never been his favourite class but this year, he loathed it more than anything else- he'd even take the big oaf's Care of Magical Creatures class over Umbridge, back when he was still around. Umbridge disliked him greatly and the feeling was entirely mutual. She was incompetent to the extreme and kept them from learning anything of value, all because of the Minister's paranoid idea that a rebellion was forming among the students in Dumbledore's name. He hadn't been surprised when she started calling him out. He knew she did the same with both of his brothers.

Daphne was the only one who shared the class with him. As they stood in front of the classroom, awaiting Umbridge's arrival, she quietly informed him that he looked tired.

"I am," he said. "I was up until after midnight to help Longbottom with his Potions essay."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were?"

"What are you raising your eyebrow for?" He snapped. "You've stayed up often enough to help Astoria with one thing or another."

"Yes," she confirmed. "But I've never denied that she's my sister or that I care about her."

He narrowed his eyes, firmly pushing down the blush he felt creeping onto his face. "I care about ensuring that he's not an embarrassment to the family."

"Earning a bad grade for a Potions essay won't turn him into a disgrace. Nor will he make an embarrassment of himself whilst eating in the Great Hall. I've noticed you sit with him quite often."

"So do you."

"No, I sit with _you_ , Draco. So do Blaise and Theodore. _You_ sit with your brother. Admit it, you care for him and Potter both."

" _Potter_? What does Potter have to do with any of this?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're not this slow, Draco, or are you going to pretend you weren't furious when you discovered the cuts on his hand?"

"He's a Malfoy," he stressed. "What sort of reputation would I get if I didn't act as though I cared when someone hurts my brother?"

He could see that she didn't buy his words. They were true, though. If he simply let it slide, everyone would say he didn't care and that would shed a bad light on them. He _didn't_ care. Not about Longbottom. Not about Potter. He just wanted them to live for Mother and save himself from the embarrassment they were sure to cause if he didn't keep his eyes on them. He'd had enough of that during the holidays, when his family fell from grace and he was forced to take a different name instead of the one that was rightfully his. He didn't need any more of it.

"Blaise thinks you're going soft."

"Blaise thought his mother was going soft when she waited seven months before getting married again after her last divorce."

She grinned. "True." He held his breath, counting the seconds as Daphne stood beside him in silence. He released his breath in sync with her drawing one. "I'm not saying it'd be a bad thing if you cared for them. They're powerful connections. With them, you've got the Houses of Potter, Crouch, McGonagall and Longbottom rallied behind you."

"Black as well," he added. "Sirius Black named Potter his heir. We had this conversation before, Daphne. I know of their value, provided they live."

The door opened. Draco and Daphne walked in behind everyone else and sat in their usual seats by the window. Normally, he'd go for the front row but it was of no use with Umbridge. They'd just be ordered to read throughout the whole period. He didn't need front row seats to do that. He really ought to talk to Severus about private lessons. If he wanted to pass his O.W.L.s properly, as he meant to, naturally, he'd need some quality lessons. Anything less than an _O_ was unacceptable but with the way Umbridge was actively keeping them from learning anything of value, he'd only manage an _E_ at best.

After class ended, as uneventful as always, they headed to Charms and then, finally, to Lunch. The Great Hall was already buzzing when they entered and Draco, instinctively, steered them toward the Ravenclaw table, where the Longbottom cousins were bent over a letter between them. The Weasley girl and Lovegood were sitting opposite them so Draco took the seat beside his brother.

"What have you got there?" Daphne asked.

"Just a letter from my dad," said Nathan with a shrug. "An update from home. Narcissa's been seeing them, he writes."

Draco frowned. "She has?"

His brother nodded. "Thrice, apparently. She wanted my parents' opinion on some plans."

"What for? They're not your guardians, they have no right to demand a say-so in your life."

The boy glared at him fiercely. "They're still my parents."

He didn't understand that either. The Longbottoms had no close biological tie to them. Yet, Nathan cared for them as though they were blood, his true parents. He didn't seem to care for their real mother like that and Draco thought that simply wrong. Mother had carried and birthed him and then fretted over him for fourteen years. The Longbottoms had raised him, yes, but that didn't change that they were criminals of the worst sort. They'd helped Dumbledore steal and hide a pureblood child- they should've been arrested the very day Nathan was found.

Even so, he knew better than to argue with him. Longbottom refused to give so much as an inch when it came to his so-called parents and revealed an ugly temper whenever someone said anything bad about his adopted parents. He was getting on with the boy remarkably well for now. There was no reason to break that peace for a lost cause. Longbottom, like Potter, was simply too emotionally connected to the people around him. Potter would probably attempt to save the Dark Lord if given the chance- reckless, stupid Gryffindor he was. No son of Lucius Malfoy should have so soft a heart, yet there they were. The twin brothers Draco never wanted, disgraces to themselves and his name. The brothers Draco knew he had to protect with everything he had short of his life. Merlin, did he miss his pleasantly uncomplicated life, when he could still feud with Potter and play the game of politics without wondering if one day, soon, he'd have to bury a brother or even both of them and see his mother break once and for all, before he had to choose between his brothers and his father and was forced to choose the former. It would all be worth it in the end. Potter would defeat the Dark Lord, Longbottom would get to play the heroic sidekick and Mother would finally smile sincerely again, without the heavy weight in her eyes. _Provided they live_.


	41. Chapter 40

**Who even needs posting schedules? Sorry about that. I promise it'll get better over the next few weeks.**

* * *

She was only a First Year when she realised that her family was wrong, that everything they had taught her all throughout her early childhood was inhumane and plain despicable. She had been sorted into Slytherin less than three days before, following in her ancestors' footsteps. Her older sister had grinned at her proudly and told her that she'd done well. It was the last time Bella had smiled at her sincerely. Any grin she had to spare after that day was malicious and mocking and any word she spoke was hurtful and insulting. At the time, she couldn't understand why Bella had turned on her so suddenly- all she had meant to do was protect the scrawny Hufflepuff because he had done no wrong.

 _"_ _A boy in my dorm said it's because of my blood,"_ Ted had told her quietly one day.

She had frowned at him. _"What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _My parents are Muggles."_

Ted, her kind-hearted best friend, was a Muggleborn. Her parents had always told her that Muggleborns were crude in nature and evil. Their magic wasn't truly theirs and they didn't belong. They were inferior, scum, not worth the dirt on her boot.

 _"_ _I don't care,"_ she had eventually said, her face set in determination. _"I'm not better than you because of my parents."  
_

 _"What about your sister?"  
_

 _"She can go bugger herself if she wants to. I don't care."_

She had repeated those words a few days later when Bella had confronted her and again when her mother demanded she stop being friends with Ted. Sirius had howled with laughter and Andy had grinned at her little cousin happily, satisfied that not her entire family had turned on her. Even so, she had found it difficult at times to deal with the pressure and the intense dislike her parents and Bella projected onto her.

In the end, it had all been worth it the day Nymphadora was born. Everything had fallen into place. Every choice she ever made and every path she ever took led to that moment. Her daughter was her purpose and there was no greater one she could imagine for herself. Her family, the one she had chosen for herself rather than the one she had been burdened with at birth, was her reward and she couldn't imagine a better one and although it hurt when her baby sister returned wedding gifts unopened or failed to acknowledge Nymphadora's birth, she didn't regret cutting Narcissa from her life. As she sat opposite of her, however, there was no doubt in Andy's mind that her sister, for better or for worse, was a part of her life again but this time, it looked like she and her boys were there to stay. She didn't know whether she was happy about that turn of events- initially, she had agreed to harbour her sister and the boys simply because she couldn't bear to see her dead, nor the boys. One of them was her godson, whom she loved too dearly to abandon in his hour of need.

She had known Nate since he was only a baby, two weeks old and so very tiny. In her younger years, Dora had never stood taller than any other child her age, courtesy of her father, but Nate had always been smaller than his peers. Harry, the poor lad, was no better off in that regard. He had gotten especially unlucky- he was a scrawny thing, skinny and lanky and less comfortable in his own skin than his brothers, although she supposed that that might've been due to the schoolboy feud he'd led against Draco.

"I want to visit the Dursleys."

She looked up. Her sister was cradling the steaming mug in her hands, her eyes trained on Andy.

"The Dursleys?"

"The family of Lily Potter's sister. Those Muggles Harry grew up with."

"You do?"

Narcissa nodded. "Yes. Meeting Aria and Kelvin- it was hard but for the best. I think I can understand my son better now, knowing where he came from and what life he led before me. I want to do the same for Harry."

She twirled her spoon thoughtfully and hummed. She hadn't spoken to Harry a lot- the boy had certainly seemed to prefer being with his brothers and Dora when they were staying at her house. From what little she had been able to catch, from Nate's letters or Narcissa's tales, she had gotten a rather telling picture of Harry's childhood and it was not a happy one.

"Are you sure? If Kelvin and Aria were hard, I reckon it will be much harder with the Dursleys. Harry…wasn't happy with them, was he?"

Her sister shook her head but her voice was filled with determination. "No, he wasn't. He was miserable with them. Molly and Sirius told me some of what Harry's said about them- Arthur met them and he said they were horrid people."

"Why do you want to meet them then?"

"To look into the eyes of the woman who couldn't love my baby," said Narcissa. "To see that cousin that was too greedy to share with an orphan boy. I want to know what Harry went through."

"When?"

"I don't know. Soon. I want to be done with it before the boys come home for Christmas. I don't want the holidays to be spoilt by anything," she paused. "Thank you for inviting us, Andy. I know you did it for Nathan's sake-"

"I did it for yours as well, Cissy. Believe it or not, but you're still my sister. Yes, you turned me away time and time again but you're back now and as long as you don't misuse my trust or…fall into old habits, I won't turn you away. Besides, Draco and Harry are my nephews as well. I'd like to get to know them some more, under better circumstances than last time."

Narcissa smiled sweetly and for a moment, Andy was reminded of the little, gentle girl her sister had once been. "Will the Longbottoms come as well?"

"Of course. Our Christmas dinner is always spent with the entire family. Ted's parents will be there and maybe Minerva as well. Sometimes, Nathan manages to get Neville and his grandmother to come too. Neville is always happy enough to be there- his grandmother can only be tolerated in small doses, I fear."

Augusta Longbottom was a bitter old lady, still so distraught by her son's death that she couldn't see her grandson for who he was. She held him to impossible standards- standards that not even her darling son could've lived up to- and berated him whenever he fell short of them. The boy had come into his magic relatively late, a good five years after Nathan's first bout of accidental magic at three years old, and was still struggling to get the hang of it. He was a kind boy, however, who rarely spoke a negative word. He smiled easily, talked gently and was calm of nature. For all his life, he'd been a brother to Nate, influencing him in all the best ways.

"Speaking of Nathan's family," Narcissa said slowly, interrupting Andy's thoughts, "Draco wrote to me this morning. He was talking to Nathan yesterday and noted that he seemed…somewhat upset over Barty Crouch Senior's death. I didn't realise the man meant so much to him."

"Well, Crouch maintained a good relationship with him. Kelvin had made clear, quite early on, that he didn't want to be Lord Crouch- Merlin knows why. I suppose he was simply hurting because of Barty Junior's betrayal. Nate took Crouch's son's place in the line of succession and Crouch seemed- well, intent on making sure that Nathan didn't go down the wrong path as his son once did. He used to take the lad to the Ministry for all sorts of functions- father and son days, when he was awarded promotions and honours, once even to simply meet the Minster. Nathan adored him."

Narcissa frowned. "Truly? I never knew about this. I suppose it must've been kept quiet for there to be no gossip of Crouch's mystery son."

"If you want tales of Nathan's hiding, you'll have to ask his parents, sister. That is not my story to tell."

And it truly wasn't. She had been against it in the first place- the boy deserved to get out of the house and go to school with his peers, not be stuck in a small Scottish village with only Neville for a pen pal. The danger that Harry's presence posed wouldn't have been too major for Nathan. He wasn't the sort of child to attract much attention to himself unless he had quotes to get off his chest.

"I shall ask them. Not yet, however. I don't want to antagonise them."

She nodded in approval. "Nate will appreciate that."

They turned toward the door when it was flung open. Sirius, looking better each day, sauntered into the dining room, which Molly had vacated for their sake, and grinned at them widely.

"Look at that!" He said. "My favourite cousins sitting side-by-side. Have I gone back in time?"

"I don't suppose so, Sirius, or else you'd be back to being shorter than both of us."

He clutched his shirt over his heart dramatically. "You wound me. Me? Short? You must have me confused for Reg that little midget. Or Harry, for that matter."

"Oh, please," Narcissa snorted. "My boys are far better looking than you."

"Excuse you, I'm very handsome."

"You're a skeleton."

"A handsome skeleton."

Andy shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Is there a reason you burst in on us, cousin? Has my daughter returned yet?"

"What, Tonks? No, she's still off with Moody. Remus said not to expect them back until the late afternoon. Lazy buggers are taking their sweet time. No, I came to tell you- on Molly's order if you can believe that- that an emergency meeting has been called for tonight."

"An emergency meeting? Sirius, you silly boy, why didn't you just say so? Who called it?"

"Dumbledore. He wants to discuss his return- and Cissy, I might've eavesdropped and heard that he wants to talk to you too."

 _About bloody time,_ Andy thought, scowling. It was time for Umbridge to leave Hogwarts before she could hurt any more children- she dreaded to think of what might happen should Nate ever misstep under her cruel gaze after what happened to poor Harry. Every day she was at Hogwarts was one day too many.


	42. Chapter 41

**I'm so sorry for this delay! I've never been one week late but life just keeps getting in the way right now. My first final is in two weeks and I've been studying lots and that's not even including the shitload of homework my teachers have been piling on us and my private life. I reckon my schedule will become more predictable in three or so weeks, once my history final is over and done with. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

"What if you just- I don't know- waltz in there, during the holidays or something. There won't be many students but enough professors to support you-"

"Assuming they still do support him," Narcissa cut in tiredly. "The boys wrote that Umbridge planted two new professors, herself excluded. History of Magic was taken over by one Jonathan Craydon and Charms is now taught by a man named Marcus Connelly. Both are from the Ministry."

They had been at it for hours. Dumbledore, as promised, had turned up for that day's Order meeting to discuss his, hopefully, imminent return to the Wizarding World. The only problem they had faced so far, however, was that everyone had an opinion they wanted to share, no matter how idiotic their idea was and Dumbledore, the amendable fool, took great care to hear everyone's plan in case theirs could improve upon his- in truth, Narcissa half feared that Dumbledore didn't even have a plan to begin with and was trying to pull one together as he went. It would certainly fit his ways- it was how he had proceeded following Harry Potter's death and the abduction of her boys.

Sirius, eager to contribute, had cut Mundungus Fletcher's ill-thought through plan short, much to her relief. The man was a pain to be around and a thief no less. She always held on tightly to what little jewels remained to her and felt nothing short of violated whenever he grinned at her.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Minerva, Severus, what can you tell us of them?"

"Connelly is a horrid man," McGonagall said briskly. "I don't talk to him often, thank Merlin, but whenever I do, I'm always left with the impression that he is of the rather unpleasant sort. Enamoured with Dolores, one might say."

"Severus? I understand you have had more interactions with Professor Connelly?"

"Indeed. He seems to believe Umbridge is somewhat of a saviour- that strikes me as odd, considering everyone knows that title is reserved for Potter only."

She cleared her throat loudly. Severus, as per usual, ignored her but she knew she effectively reminded him of her presence. That alone would be enough to keep his derogatory comments to a minimum, at least for now.

"The boys all said that they don't think Craydon is sided with Umbridge too firmly," she said. "Harry even tells me he developed an interest for history since Craydon took over."

"So Connelly and Umbridge are the only ones who we know for sure would fight Albus?" asked Sirius. "That's almost too easy. They stand no chance and you've got the whole student body behind you anyway."

"Not all of it, Black," Severus sneered. "The Slytherins prefer Umbridge. There are exceptions, of course- most notably among the Fifth Years- but they would seize any chance they get to elevate themselves and earn the Ministry's favour. Most of the Ravenclaws oppose her, however. They seem…put out by the inefficient learning environment Umbridge is attempting to create."

"The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are with you, Albus. Dolores might have attempted to alienate the students from one another with this new house arrangement, but it seems to have worked in our favour instead. Interhouse relationships have strengthened immensely- Nathan, Harry and Draco certainly have contributed to this, even if they don't realise it."

She frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know how much the boys tell you but it does occur that they all sit at one table, despite their different houses. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw Draco at Slytherin's table. He always sits with Nathan. It inspires other students to foster their relationships in the same manner, if scarcely. It's a vast improvement to how things used to be."

"As joyful as that is," Dumbledore said, immediately commanding the attention of everyone at the table. "The Interhouse relationships won't be enough. Slytherin House, as unfortunate as it is, is composed of mostly Pureblood children. Many of the boys, and some of the girls, are heirs to powerful houses that might have the capacity to draw enough support to move against Hogwarts should I simply reclaim it."

"We've got big names on our side too. Between them, my cousins probably have the biggest fortune in Britain right now," Nymphadora said. "Granted, Nate's only Lord Crouch and Heir Apparent to House McGonagall after his mum but Harry's got Black and Potter to himself and Draco's gonna be Lord Malfoy on his seventeenth birthday."

Remus Lupin shook his head. "Those houses have one thing in common, Nymphadora- they don't carry much weight in the current situation. They have plenty of money, yes, but they will have trouble gathering the support needed to hold Hogwarts in an efficient manner. No offense, Minerva."

Everyone fell silent. Narcissa hoped that it meant they were done, that there was nothing else they could come up with that night. Just as the silence grew uncomfortably suffocating, Severus cleared his throat.

"Perhaps the simplest way would be to convince the Ministry that the Dark Lord truly is back."

Sirius scoffed. "And how do you propose we do that, Snivellus? Write them a letter, begging them to believe us? I know you're used to life as a beggar but not all of us would sink so low-"

"If I was you, Black, I wouldn't talk of sinking low. You are a fugitive wanted for the murder of his best friend, after all."

Sirius was on his feet in an instance and Lupin with him. The werewolf grasped Sirius' arm and told him to calm down before turning to glare at Severus furiously.

"Sirius didn't kill Lily and James, Severus. You'd best remember that."

"Be that as it may," Severus continued, ignoring the two men as they sat down again, silently fuming. "We all know what the Dark Lord wants most. We should use that to our advantage and set up a bait."

She frowned. The Dark Lord was after power, everyone knew that, but there was certainly no way they could somehow draw him out by baiting him that way. He would never rise to power, not so long as the Order existed.

"What is it you're proposing, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"That we use the boy."

 _The boy_. _The boy._ Narcissa blanched. _The Boy-Who-Lived. Harry. Her son_.

"No," she said at once. "No. We are _not_ using my son as bait. How dare you suggest that, Severus?"

"The boy is more than just your son. He's the Dark Lord's enemy. If the boy were to make a move on the prophecy, the Dark Lord would react."

She stood up, her face going red with anger. "React viciously! He is _my_ son and I will _not_ allow you to put him in danger!"

" _Your_ son is not worth more than the entire wizarding world, Narcissa. What is his life against that of thousands of others? It's a selfish desire to keep him save when he could save many more."

Noise erupted at once. Molly and Sirius jumped up as well, furiously shouting, for once not at each other. Nymphadora was arguing animatedly with Alastor Moody and Lupin was talking to Arthur, both obviously upset. Narcissa stood quietly, however. She had trusted Severus to keep her sons save. She'd trusted him since the day of Draco's birth, when he had held the baby so gently. That very same man sat before her now, with cold eyes and an even colder heart, seeing nothing wrong with using an innocent boy as bait. Was it his hatred for James Potter that still ran so deep? Had he grown to associate Harry with James so strongly that he couldn't keep them apart even now, when Harry looked nothing like the Potter boy anymore? If it wasn't her boy but Lily's, would he have still suggested sending him off to die, just so Dumbledore could return? If it was Lily's son- Lily.

"What is Lily's life against that of her husband and son, Severus?" She asked. Her voice cut through the noise, quiet though it was, and everyone was silenced at once. Sirius looked at her, stunned, and even Severus looked taken-aback by the question. "I know what you did, Severus. I heard you talking to Lucius about it. _Spare Lily_ ," she said. " _Save Lily._ You were ready to condemn her husband and her baby to save her life. You would've gladly sacrificed two innocent lives for one woman who didn't love you back. And yet, you dare sit there and tell me that it's selfish of me to want to save _my son_. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Is that true?" Lupin asked. "He asked for Lily to be spared in exchange of James and Harry?"

She nodded sharply and watched, with no little satisfaction, as Severus paled even farther. Lupin and Sirius, she was certain, knew of the adoration Severus had held for the redheaded Muggleborn when they were mere youths but she doubted they were aware of the love he still harboured, the love he tried to hide from everyone. Not her though. He could never keep anything from her for very long- she would never forget the Potters' fourth death anniversary when she'd come across Severus sobbing over a ripped picture of Lily.

At the time, she was sympathetic. She couldn't understand why Severus would love a Muggleborn girl but she could understand lost love and the deep, never ending pain such a loss would have, especially on a lonely man like Severus.

She wasn't sympathetic anymore. She hadn't been since she'd overheard Severus' confession to Lucius about begging the Dark Lord to spare Lily. _That_ she could not understand. True love, to her, meant wanting what's best for the other. If Severus had truly loved her, he'd have protected her husband and baby instead of sacrificing them.

"You slimy bastard!" Sirius shouted, lunging over the table at Severus. Lupin and Arthur caught him by his shirt and pulled him back, using all of their strength to keep her younger cousin at bay. "You absolute bastard! What, did you think Lily would love you if James and Harry were dead? You're bloody wrong! She would've despised you even more for it!"

Lupin took a deep breath. He was always so calm, Narcissa noted. Maybe he was just very good at hiding his anger, of restraining it to his eyes. They were ablaze at that very moment but his body was restrained and calm, the opposite of her temperamental cousin. "Padfoot, he's not worth it. He's not worth it."

Severus seethed. "My…feelings for Lily aren't of importance. Albus cannot return until the Ministry acknowledges the Dark Lord's return. Having Potter retrieve the prophecy is the only way to achieve this."

"I don't care about the prophecy! My son's life won't be dictated by some woman's insanity."

"My dear Narcissa," Dumbledore said calmly. "The prophecy is far from insanity. It predicts Voldemort's defeat at young Harry's hand."

"Oy my son's death at the Dark Lord's," she snapped. "It wasn't supposed to be my son, Dumbledore. We all know that. It was never supposed to be my Eoin. I won't let him die for a prophecy that was never about him."

Dumbledore frowned at her. The twinkle is his eyes was gone, replaced by a sorrowful expression. She knew, deep down, that Dumbledore did feel bad for dragging her son into this mess and condemning him to a life full of suffering. It wasn't enough, though. She needed this idea nipped in the bud before the old coot decided that Harry would make fine bait for the Dark Lord. Harry's life was no longer Dumbledore's to command.

Finally, the old man nodded. "We cannot send Harry to the Ministry. He is too important still."

She smiled softly at her victory. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Severus leaning forward ever so slightly and tensed, the breath of relief stuck in her chest. "The Longbottom boy looks similar enough. Near identical. The Dark Lord has never laid eyes on either boy. Perhaps a scar on Longbottom's head will be enough to fool him."

McGonagall glared at Severus, disgust written all over her face. "Enough, Severus! Neither boy will be sacrificed!"

It felt as though this was a horrible nightmare. Severus, her last remaining friend, was turning on her in the worst way possible. What had driven him into this insanity? Nathan, her youngest, had nothing to do with Lily's death- if anything, he should feel a sense of loyalty toward the boy, if only for being his colleague's grandson and heir since he wouldn't be his godfather. As it was, Ted Tonks, the Muggleborn her sister married, made for a better godfather anyway.

"We won't send Nathan to the Ministry either," Dumbledore said. "But Severus is right. It will be easiest luring Voldemort out by using the prophecy. As you all know, it stands in the Department of Mysteries and is currently being guarded at all times but one of you. I propose that you, Severus, announce to Tom that on Boxing Day, the prophecy shall only be guarded by one member who holds little courage and little magical prowess- of course, none of you fit this description but I am quite sure we shall find a volunteer to take that shift. Tom will certainly want to use this chance. Since only he and young Harry can pick up the prophecy, he will have to go to the Ministry himself."

"Boxing day?" Molly repeated. "But that's months away! Are you sure, Albus? I don't want that woman close to my children any longer than necessary- Merlin knows Fred and George get into enough trouble as it is, I don't want to have to worry that they'll get themselves tortured playing some prank."

"I'm sure your sons will know to keep a low profile. Just as I'm sure that the Black boys have been instructed to do the same."

"They have," she said. "After I found out that Harry had been forced to cut words into the back of his own hand _._ She forced him to write _I must not tell lies_."

Dumbledore nodded. "So I was told. Harry is a brave boy. He is not the kind to hold back the truth, even when faced with dire consequences. As it is, we will need the time to prepare for what is to come."

There was no need for a vote- everyone unanimously agreed that Dumbledore's plan would work nicely. As they disbanded and turned in for the night, Narcissa felt queasy. The plan, while sound, sat wrong with her. It was too easy, too neatly wrapped. All she could do, however, was swallow her anxiety and go to sleep, praying for the day when she could embrace her boys once more and know them safe.


	43. Chapter 42

**Good news, I'm not dead. I'm sorry for the wait and that I seem to start every chapter with an apology lately. This story won't be abandoned. I will do my utmost to keep it going. However, my life is a bit of a rollercoaster at the moment. One second everything is going great and the next, I'm dealing with some drama, either my own or someone else's. It leaves me drained most of the time, both physically and emotionally, and not in a good place. So, I'm really sorry that I can't seem to get chapters out on time and that some chapters, especially recent ones, seem out of place or choppy. I will eventually go back and redo it but this as good as it'll get for now until my life decides to take it down a notch and just calm down for once. Please leave a review and let me know what you think or if you've got any ideas you think I should include. Reviews have been fading lately and I'd love to see them have a return.** **Anyway, enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Minerva stood with her arms crossed over her chest, impatiently waiting for Severus to finally step through the fireplace. The Order meeting had ended only minutes prior and Minerva was ready to see some heads roll- Severus' head especially. The sheer nerve of him! She could hardly believe her ears when he started talking of sending Harry to the Ministry as bait but she knew where those thoughts were coming from. She remembered the feud he'd had with James Potter clearly, from silly pranks to demeaning insults, but Severus had given as good as he took. He earned at least one detention for every three James and Sirius found themselves in- Severus had always been far more sneaky than her lions and was only seldom caught red-handed. Even so, it was common knowledge that Severus Snape loathed James Potter and his three friends fiercely, which was why Minerva was not surprised when he began to pick on little Harry Potter the day the boy arrived at school. His hate ran so deep, in fact, that she was rather certain he still saw Harry Potter to this day, even though the boy has been dead for fourteen years. He was willing to send Eoin Black to the Ministry and see him killed by Voldemort, seeing the boy as nothing more than a replacement for Harry Potter. But then he turned around, accepting that Albus and Narcissa wouldn't stand for it, and suggested sending in _her_ grandson in Harry's place. She had felt her blood boil the moment her grandson's name touched Severus' lips. Before she decided to reunite Harry with his biological family, Nathan wasn't involved with the war at all. Yes, she'd taught him all there was to know about it, even telling him which families were associated with which side and warning him that Voldemort would return eventually but Nathan had never shown any desire to fight. The boy lost his bravery quickly. He was a sheltered boy, having been protected by almost everyone he'd ever met as a child. From Barty Crouch Senior to Andromeda Tonks, every adult in Nathan's life had fought to protect him from any harm. They were overprotective, Minerva knew, but she'd never held it against them. The boy had been found abandoned, two weeks old at best, and had been sickly in his first few years. Any caring relative was bound to be especially protective of a child like Nathan, even as he grew stronger with every year that passed, ignoring the obvious signs that he was ready to spread his wings and fly like the eagle that now graced his chest until Nathan forgot how to take flight.

The fireplace roared and Severus stepped through, his face detached and cold as usual. At the sight of him, her head turned red with anger. This boy- this _man_ for he was no longer the child she still saw in him- had attempted to sacrifice James Potter and baby Harry to Voldemort to save Lily. He wanted to see Harry dead even now, despite the child not being a Potter anymore.

"You foolish man," she snapped.

He sighed, self-righteous annoyance written all over his face. "I have no need for one of your lectures, Minerva. Albus already informed me that it is not acceptable to risk the lives of children, no matter how insignificant they may be."

Her hand connected with his face sharply. The man stumbled back, taken by surprise, and stared at her with unrestrained fury but his could never meet hers.

"My grandson is not insignificant and neither is Harry. I don't care that you can't find it in your heart to forgive a dead man but you will no longer mistreat a boy for his father's- his adoptive father's!- deeds. Isn't it bad enough that you tried to sacrifice him once before? How desperate are you to see this child, Lily's child, dead?"

"He's not Lily's child," he whispered dangerously. "He never was. Lily's child is dead. He never lived long enough to kill her. But that boy- that boy did. If it hadn't been for him, Lily would still be alive!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry for you, Severus. Yes, the baby Lily gave birth to died but Eoin Black is her son just the same. The sooner you realise that Lily was a mother of two, the better. Until then, I expect Harry and Nathan to serve all detentions you assign them with me. Is that understood?"

"Longbottom is in my house-"

"He's my grandson and heir. I don't care that you've been made Head of a house that shouldn't exist. I don't want you near him more than necessary until you figure out why it's wrong to want to sacrifice innocent children."

With that, she turned around and left. She made it halfway to the Ravenclaw common room, where she knew Nathan to be at this time of night, before stopping short. She was being silly. The boy was likely deep asleep already, unbothered by the horrific images inside her head. She'd talked to him in the morning, when he wasn't groggy from sleep, and explain to him what had happened. Harry, too. She didn't want them to find out any other way- one of the boys, whether it be the twins or their elder brother, would know by midday. Sirius might write to Harry to advise him to stay away from Severus or Narcissa could send a letter to Draco. She didn't know what the woman might say to her oldest son but the boy was as biased when it came to Severus and Sirius was. Severus, on purpose or not, invoked strong emotions within people- she'd known that since he was only a little boy attending Hogwarts. Some loathed him with everything they had and others loved him with their entire being. Lily and James had been on opposite ends of this scale. She had cared so deeply for the boy, despite being a Gryffindor, whilst James had hated him just as fiercely. Severus himself seemed only capable of hatred these days, especially when it came to Harry Potter- or Eoin Malfoy. She wasn't sure anymore which side of the boy he loathed more- the one that wore his enemy's face or the one that didn't have his love's blood flowing through his veins. The boy who was Lily's son by blood or the boy who was hers by choice.

* * *

"Hey, Longbottom?" An older Ravenclaw stuck his head into his dorm. "Professor McGonagall wants to see you in her office."

He frowned. "Did she say why?"

The boy- Mills, his mind supplied- shrugged. "I'm not privy to that stuff. She just said to tell you to hurry and be there before breakfast. Seemed important."

Nathan nodded and quickly fastened his tie around his neck, shrugging it loose when it felt as though it was suffocating him. "Alright. Thanks for telling me."

He grabbed his book bag and slung it over the shoulder. He was almost out of the door when Darius Berrow stepped out of the bathroom, his robes, lined with green, clutched in his hand. Darius smiled at him and Nathan could feel his cheeks turn some shade of red. "You're leaving already? It's only seven."

"Uh, yeah. I'm supposed to meet my grandmother."

Darius nodded and grabbed his tie from his bed beside Nathan's. "Oh, what for?"

"I don't really know."

"Huh. Well, must be important for her to summon you this early in the morning."

"I guess so," he shifted awkwardly. Darius was still smiling unwaveringly, his blue eyes filled with happiness. "I should go. I'll see you later."

"Alright. Have fun."

He turned around and fled the room. The common room was already buzzing with other Ravenclaws but scarcely any Slytherins had made their first appearance of the day yet. It was an image he'd gotten used to over the last month. Blue ties dominated this space at any time of the day. The snakes kept to their dorms or lurked in the shadows. Some took to the bookshelves and hid their faces behind the volumes just as often as any Ravenclaw did before turning around and calling a fellow reader a bookworm. Darius, the only Slytherin in Nathan's dorm, was one of the few who was truly trying to make friends with his new housemates. Aside from Darius, however, Draco was the only Slytherin he could depend on seeing regularly. His brother was sitting at a table by a window, a book laid out before him.

"Morning," he said as he passed by the table, stopping to peak over his Draco's shoulder. He was reading up on some potion that Nathan didn't recognise.

"Homework?"

"No, this is the potion I'll be brewing today. It saves time if you don't see the instructions for the first time whilst brewing."

He shrugged. "Maybe Snape should tell people that on occasion."

"That's common sense, Longbottom. You do it in Transfiguration."

"My grandmother _teaches_ Transfiguration. If I come unprepared, I'll have to make up for it in the holidays," he grinned. "Speaking of my grandma, I have to go. She wants to see me before breakfast."

"Good luck with that. I guess."

He began the long climb down the stairs from the tower, his mind already on his upcoming talk with his grandmother. He knew there'd been an Order meeting the day before- Nymph could always be relied on to pass that information along- but so far, his grandmother had never wanted to talk to him after one. There should be no need. He wasn't important to the war effort, not the way Harry was for being the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe it wasn't about the Order at all. Maybe she just wanted to talk- they rarely found time these days with his grandmother busy teaching and him preoccupied with his schoolwork and the defence club. Normally, she'd just ask him to come by in the evening, not summon him before breakfast. She only did that when it was important. Had his parents come to her with one concern or another? He knew his mother had been getting a bit paranoid about his health lately, now that she wasn't around to know him save and healthy anymore.

"Hey, Nathan!" Harry was jogging toward him, his robes dishevelled and wet and his tie undone. "Are you going to McGonagall's office too?"

"She summoned you as well?" He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

Harry shrugged. "I was hoping you'd tell me. One second I'm asleep and the next, Fred is pouring cold water all over me whilst George is yelling at me to get to McGonagall's."

"You weren't up yet?"

"No," Harry said, almost startled. "Why? Were you?"

He nodded. "Of course! Breakfast is in an hour, why would I want to end up in a rush? Most of us are up by seven at the latest."

Harry stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. Idly, Nathan wondered what life in the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms was like- judging by how the Gryffindors looked each morning, he reckoned that they weren't nearly as organised.

"Wait, aren't the twins supposed to be separated?"

"Yeah but no one really knows who's supposed to be where. They always just go where they want. McGonagall doesn't mind."

They stopped in front of his grandmother's office door. Nathan raised his hand and knocked briskly, entering only upon hearing the awaited approval. His grandmother was sitting behind her desk, her hands folded in front of her. She looked unusually tired, he noticed it at once.

"Good morning, Grandmum."

She returned his smile gently. "Good morning, boys. Close the door behind you, Harry, and sit down."

He watched as his brother closed the door gingerly and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk. "This isn't a courtesy visit."

"You're right," her smile fell. "As I'm sure you know, the Order met last night. During this meeting…concerning opinions arose."

"What opinions?" Harry asked eagerly. "About Voldemort?"

Nathan flinched at the name. "Surely not? That would only be concerning if someone spoke in his favour."

"No, not about…Voldemort. Don't flinch, Nathan. I know I've called him You-Know-Who before but the Headmaster is right. It will do us no good to be afraid of a name. No, it was about how we should expose him. It was suggested, and immediately shot down, mind you, that we should send one of you two into the Ministry to draw Voldemort out."

He flinched once more but this time, it wasn't at the name. He couldn't face that monster. He had blanked when confronted with his followers- going anywhere with the sole purpose of getting into contact with…with _that_ froze his brain, his entire body. Knowing that he was even paler than usual, he asked quietly,

"Who suggested that?"

"Professor Snape."

"Snape!" Harry yelped, jumping up. "Of course! That greasy git has been out to get me forever! Of course he'd suggest something like that!"

"Sit down, Harry, I did not give you this information so that you could storm off and confront him yourself."

"Why did you tell us?" Nathan asked, genuinely confused. "I doubt Dumbledore or Snape or anyone else was gonna say anything."

His grandmother nodded. "No, the Order wouldn't have disclosed this information to you. Even so, I believe that you would have still found out one way or another before tomorrow. I don't want your judgement clouded by whatever bias the person might have that informed you of this suggestion. For now, you both will not serve detention with Professor Snape. Any detention he assigns you will be served with me."

"Do you think he'll try something?"

"I frankly don't think he will," she said. "However, I'm not willing to gamble with your well-being. Nathan, you know I can't."

He did know. His grandmother was willing to risk a lot of things. She'd risked her good name, her money, her home, even her own life over and over but the one thing she'd never dare put on the line were the lives of him and his mother. When things got too bad, his grandmother's first concern was always for them. As he walked back to his dorm to fetch his forgotten Charms book, he made a promise to himself. His grandmother was always looking out for him, always making sure that he was save above everything else. _Everyone_ did that. His mum, his dad, Narcissa. Even Harry did it, casting shields over his own the day of the attack and quizzing him about his childhood illness. Draco's insistence that he had to be prepared for the war. It was time he started pulling his own weight and outgrow the sheltered little boy he was raised to be.


	44. Chapter 43

****I originally uploaded this chapter yesterday (May 3rd) but there seems to have been a problem when I uploaded it. The eMail notifications weren't sent out due to some error or another. So, this is essentially a reupload to ensure that everyone who has notifications on actually gets notified.****

 **This chapter is both way later and way shorter than usual. Sorry about that. I had some stuff going on. I tried to make this chapter longer, which is also part of the reason why it's so late, but it wasn't meant to be. The amount of deleting I did is simply ridiculous.**

 **5Funla: Wow, that's quite awesome! It's not a short fic to be sure, so I do appreciate how much time you must've spent reading this thing. I've got family fluff coming up, don't worry. As long as the boys are at school, the familial interactions will mostly be between them, however. Scenes with the twins and Narcissa will come more frequently once the holidays roll around. Until then, I might put in a few letters or something. Thanks so much for reviewing!**

 **R: Haha, yes, save and safe are quite troublesome for me. I do know both words but I can never, for the life of me, remember when to use which. I used to know but forgot, I suppose. Looked it up after seeing your review. Maybe it'll stick this time. Keeping my fingers crossed!**

 **These two reviews did give me quite the boost, to be honest. I was feeling quite low when they came in and seriously considering just putting this story on hold because at this point, it really is a chore. I won't put in on hold, don't worry, I had just hit a low point, coupling my lack of motivation due to lack of feedback with my private life. Everything is settling down now, so that shouldn't be a problem. Even so, PLEASE, for the love of whatever deity you do or don't believe in, just leave a review. I never knew how vital those were until this story. I'm doing this to improve my writing but can't do that unless I've got people telling me if they like or hate what I'm doing. You don't have to write me a novel, just leave a few words. It won't kill you.**

 **Now, onto the story.**

* * *

They left McGonagall's office with plenty of time to spare. Harry contemplated going back to the common room to wind down after the talk he just had but when Nathan turned toward the large doors leading outside as they passed through the Entrance Hall, Harry found himself following his brother wordlessly. He could feel the rage bubbling inside him, yearning to break through. His fingers itched for something to break or throw, a way to let his anger flow. But it was just them- just Harry and the little brother he had never known about. In the beginning, he had thought that they had met too late in life. He'd been so sure that there would never be a day where he'd feel for him as Fred did for George. But it was there, he knew it was. That overwhelming sense of protectiveness, the urge to keep Nathan from any harm, was there and it was fuelling the anger that was boiling inside of him.

They sat down by the water, both staring senselessly at their reflection. When the glamours were first removed, the day they found Nathan at the Ministry, Harry hadn't thought that they looked very similar aside from their hair and eyes. Now, however, he knew that he hadn't seen the resemblance because he simply hadn't cared to find it. They _were_ brothers, there was no doubt. They looked so similar, in fact, that someone who scarcely knew them could easily get their names mixed up. A Death Eater who had only briefly seen them could snatch up Nathan in the firm belief that he'd gotten Harry and no one would be any wiser until they noticed that Nathan's forehead was free of the scar that had been with him since he was only a baby.

"Do you reckon we should tell Draco?" Nathan asked eventually.

He shrugged. "I suppose we could."

"But _should_ we? Narcissa might tell him, yes?"

"Or Snape might," he took a deep breath. Just speaking the git's name brought about a wave of hatred- he couldn't imagine his next Potions class would end well.

Nathan picked at the grass absent-mindedly. "So what? We just wait?"

"Does it make any difference? Chances are, Malfoy will agree with Snape anyway. He's hated me since First Year."

"I don't think he does anymore," his brother said. He paused. "You called him Malfoy just then."

"So?"

Looking at him oddly, Nathan cracked a slight grin. "You really can be slow sometimes, you know that? You've been calling him Draco lately but now that you're upset with him, you called him Malfoy."

He frowned. He actually hadn't really noticed that he had called him Draco out loud. "It's only been- what? Four months since we found out? Old habits die hard."

"So do grudges. You know, my mum and dad had this-this ridiculous rule that I wasn't supposed to turn my back on a person if I was still angry with them or tell them I wasn't when I really was," he smiled at the ground. "I thought it was ridiculous but they were right all along."

"Were they?"

Nathan nodded and met his eyes. "The war is coming and from what I've seen, you're going to be in the thick of it. Why make an enemy of your brother when you've already got so many?"

"I'm not-"

"Then why did you call him Malfoy? That's not even his name anymore. The only Malfoy left is- well, you know, and even that's not certain."

With a jolt, Harry remembered the talk they'd had with Narcissa the day of the Azkaban escape. Malfoy had gone missing almost immediately and no one knew where he was or if he was even alive. He hadn't given much thought to it- he had accepted Narcissa as his mother and could think of her as such without feeling like he was betraying his mum but James Potter still was and would always be his only father. Draco, however, knew no other father. If the past years were anything to go by, he practically admired Malfoy. It couldn't be easy for him to hear others talk about his father in the worst of ways or go to bed each night not knowing if he'd be told his father was dead when he woke up. He had Snape, of course, but for how much longer? He knew that their mother wouldn't be very pleased with the git. Would she forbid Draco from spending time with Snape as McGonagall had? Or would Draco not even want to be with him in the first place? Draco could deny it but Harry _knew_ that he'd come to care for Nathan just as much as he himself had. Maybe he would be just as furious knowing that Snape was alright with sending Nathan off to die in Harry's place.

"I was just angry, alright?" He finally said.

Nathan picked at the sleeve of his robes. Harry's eyes landed on the Ravenclaw crest that was stitched upon his chest and travelled down to the Myrddin Emrys crest beneath it. To this day, no one knew why Umbridge had replaced the house system. There were rumours, though. He'd heard some Slytherin suggest that Umbridge meant to separate them into worthy and unworthy of entering Voldemort's service- he didn't find that too difficult to believe. Umbridge seemed the type to join Voldemort.

"I often turned my back in anger," Nathan admitted. "I regret some of those times because I won't have the chance to take back what I said and did. It's war, Harry. You could turn your back in anger and by the time you turned around again, the person you were angry with is dead."

"Don't you think I know that?" He snapped before taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Cedric's face flashed before him. His dad's voice, shouting for his mum to run away and save herself, and then hers, pleading for Harry's life. The life of a boy who wasn't hers to begin with. A Death Eater's son, thrust upon them to care for. _Jamie Potter_ , he thought. The name his mum and dad had intended for him to grow up with, according to Remus, because he could never replace the real _Harry_. He frowned. _Take Harry and run!_ , his dad's voice echoed through his head and his mum's joined him. _Not Harry!_ A shiver ran down his back. Had they meant to save _Harry_ and not him? In that moment of fear, faced with death, had they forgotten that the black-haired, green-eyed boy wasn't their son, not their Harry? Was the love that protected him the love his mum had for him or the love Lily Potter had for her true son?

Nausea washed over him. He loved his mum and dad with everything he had, even now that he knew whose son he truly was- no, _especially_ now that he knew. Had they loved him just as much? Or had the very sight of him made them weep for the son they loved and lost? A sudden urge overcame him, an urge he couldn't place. Anger washed all over him before it passed just as quickly as it came.

"Harry?" Nathan asked, concern all over his face.

He bit his tongue. _"Don't call me that!"_ he almost snapped. He was an imposter. He had stolen the identity of a dead baby and kept wearing it even though he now knew the truth.

"I'm fine," he said.

"This thing with this Snape is really bothering you, isn't it?"

"Yes," he nodded, happily using the excuse Nathan had provided him with. "I knew he hated me but I'd never thought he'd try to send me- both of us- to die as bait."

"I can. My Grandmum used to call him a petty boy," Nathan said, the last words spoken in a thick Scottish accent just like McGonagall's.

"More like greasy git."

They sat in silence for a while longer before Nathan suggested they should make their way back to the castle if they wanted to eat breakfast before their first class of the day. Harry didn't feel like having breakfast but the thought of having Hermione nagging him all day, face filled with both annoyance and worry, made him follow his brother as he led the way inside. The Great Hall was already filled for the most part and Harry found Hermione and Ron at once. He said a brief goodbye to Nathan and started to walk toward the table. Snape was sitting at the staff table, he realised with growing fury.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Where were you? Neville said you were gone by the time he woke up."

He sat down next to Ron and grabbed a piece of toast. "Yeah. McGonagall wanted to talk to me and Nathan."

"Nathan and I."

Ron rolled his eyes. "What did she want from you?"

For a few moments, Harry contemplated telling them. They were his best friends, after all, and deserved to know. But then, as he caught Seamus Finnigan glancing at him spitefully, he decided against it. He'd tell them eventually, when they weren't surrounded by curious ears.

"I'll tell you later," he said, jerking his head toward Seamus meaningfully. Hermione nodded at once and told them about the essay she had written for Arithmancy.

Harry hated Arithmancy and he hated Umbridge for forcing him to take it- well, it was one reason for his hatred of her at least. He hadn't liked Divination either, what with Trelawney having a fondness of predicting his imminent death, but at least he could wing that. It was easy enough to make up a bunch of predictions and pass them off as legit, especially to a professor as clueless as her. Now, he was stuck studying formulas in Arithmancy and translating ancient runes that he probably wouldn't ever need once he left school. _If_ he ever left school- he shook his head. He wasn't supposed to think like that. He _couldn't_ think like that if he wanted to survive.

"What good does Arithmancy even do?" Ron asked, interrupting Hermione's description of a complex formula that Harry wouldn't even bother trying to remember. "It's just numbers."

"It's not just numbers, Ronald," she said, sounding exasperated. "You can learn to predict the future using it, not like that nonsense you were learning the last years."

"You're just bummed because it was the one class you weren't brilliant in."

"Oh, but you were?"

"Well, Harry and I did alright," Ron grinned. "Didn't we, mate?"

He shrugged. "Reckon so. We didn't fail, after all, right?"

Hermione groaned. " _That's_ not how you determine success."

"According to the toad, we only go to classes to pass school. Not failing's a big success."

As they left the Great Hall, Harry's eyes wandered toward where Nathan and Draco sat at the Ravenclaw table, surrounded by their friends. Neville sat opposite of Draco, he realised, hope flaring in his chest. If Draco could learn to be civil toward Neville- maybe he wasn't so evil after all. Smiling, he followed Ron and Hermione out of the Hall, absent-mindedly listening to their chattering.


	45. Chapter 44

**Don't mind me just dropping a chapter after over a month of absence. Don't worry, this story isn't abandoned or on hiatus, my muse just comes and goes as it pleases.  
**

* * *

Severus looked up sharply as the door was violently thrown open. A scowl on his face, he looked up, a lecture already itching to get off his tongue. The sight of Draco stopped him and irritation made way for concern at the upset boy, whose face was red with anger.

"Draco, what in Merlin's name-"

"Save it," Draco snapped. "What the hell were _you_ thinking?"

He stood up and stared down at his godson with firm eyes. "I would strongly advise you to reconsider that tone of yours-"

"You tried to sell them!"

"I didn't try to sell them," he said, relaxing his stance as understanding overcame him. "I merely suggested for one of them to be used as bait."

Draco brought his hand down upon the table. Severus nearly flinched in surprise. He had expected the boy to be somewhat upset over his suggestion. This was far beyond upset however. He was in a rage over a boy doomed to death. He felt his heart sink. He had tried to prevent this. He wanted to shield his godson's heart, wanted him to think of Potter as anything but a brother. Lily had told him once, nothing hurt more than a lost sibling. That horrid sister of hers hadn't died but was lost to her all the same. He had _warned_ Draco. He'd told him not to get too close, too attached. All he had to do was live his life and let the twins be but then Longbottom waltzed into Draco's everyday life and forced him to get used to his presence. Not just used but expecting of it. He saw them together in the Great Hall for nearly every meal, sitting and sometimes even laughing together and he'd _warned_ him.

"If it makes you feel better, I never expected them to take my suggestion seriously. I knew that dog and your mother would reject it."

"Then why suggest it?"

"Because your mother needed reminding. Potter won't survive this war, Draco, and Longbottom might follow him into death. Your mother and you need to be prepared."

His godson rolled his eyes. "You always talk about their deaths as if there's no way they can survive."

"The Dark Lord wants them dead-"

"So what?" He yelled. "He's tried with Harry before! Thrice! Why do you never talk of my death then? Tell me! I turned my back on the Dark Lord when Mother did. He'll want me dead too!"

"You won't die," he hissed.

"Why not? Because I'm my father's heir? I have two younger brothers now, who cares if I die? Harry will inherit after me and even if he dies too, there's still Nathan!"

"And if he dies as well?"

Shaking his head, Draco looked at him with resigned eyes. "Then maybe it's Fate telling us that the Malfoy line needs to die."

He sat down heavily. Only a year ago, the boy would've fought tooth and nail to keep the Malfoy line alive. He would've sacrificed everyone and everything short of his parents to ensure its survival. How had that proud boy turned into this? A child resigned to the possibility of death, yet so desperate to keep two boys whom he hardly knew alive. What was it about _Potter_ that made people care so deeply for his safety? First Lily and now- no. That boy wouldn't take another person from him. If he had to lock Draco up when the final battle arrived, he would. If the Malfoy line continued on, it would be through Draco's blood, not that of Potter or Longbottom.

"Potter has no chance of survival, Draco," Severus said. "I need you to trust me."

"That's what everyone said when I was sick," the boy said. " _He won't survive another year_. They said it over and over on all of my birthdays until I was cured but I _lived_. I survived because _you_ saved me. They're my brothers, why won't you save them?"

He remembered every instance of it. Every time Draco knocked on Death's door, Severus was there with him, forcing potions down his throat. He had pried the boy out of his mother's arms more often than he could count and had listened for endless seconds when the child's heart stopped in its rhythm. When Narcissa announced that she was pregnant with twin boys, everything had looked up for a little while, with Draco drawing life and energy from the idea of having baby brothers. He crashed weeks into the pregnancy and had soon forgotten all about his brothers. He had only been a baby then, less than one year old. A baby and yet, the only person Severus had ever dared love after Lily left him to be with Potter. Even as he was working on a cure, he had let himself grow used to the idea of having two more godsons to love and protect. He shook his head. It didn't matter anymore. The twins had grown up into a Potter and a Longbottom in all but blood. They weren't his godsons. They could never be. Not after- _he killed her._

"I can't save them. Talk to your mother if you want to know more of this but be assured that I won't tell you anything else."

He _could_ save the Longbottom boy. He wasn't part of the prophecy, nor was he strictly necessary for the war effort outside of giving Potter something to fight for. From what he'd heard, the boy was competent enough as a wizard but hadn't proven him to be of the fighting kind. They could lock him away somewhere on the countryside, put him under the Fidelius Charm and return for him once the war was won. Minerva might even be in favour of that. Anything to see her _precious_ grandson safe. The boy wouldn't, of course. Fighter or not, he was hardly cowardly enough to run and hide whilst others were risking their lives. Watching out for the boy would be nearly impossible, however. Once the fighting began, he would surely finally heed his grandmother's teachings and recklessly charge every enemy or jump in front of Potter in an effort to block the Dark Lord's final spell. Besides, he had made no vow to protect the boy. He had promised to protect Draco's life for the love he bore the child and he had sworn to keep Potter alive until the time came for him to sacrifice himself but Longbottom wasn't part of that. No, best keep them apart, so that Draco would suffer less should the boy die prematurely.

"So that's it?" Draco asked. "You're not telling me anything else?"

He turned to sort the marked essays on his desk into a neat pile, averting his eyes from Draco. "No, I'm not."

The boy huffed. "Fine," he spun around and was reaching for the door when he suddenly stopped. "If you're not willing to save them, I'll have to do it myself."

He snapped his head up. "Draco!"

The boy had gone. The door was wide open and curious Fourth Years were peeking into the room.

"Get in here!" He barked. "You certainly need the work, if these dreadful essays are the best you dunderheads can manage!"

* * *

"Where'd he go?" Ron groaned. Lunch was over and class had started more than half an hour ago. They hadn't returned yet, no matter how often Hermione groaned that they shouldn't skip class. Harry didn't care. It was his fault, after all, that Draco had all but vanished. He and Nathan had pulled him aside at Lunch to tell him what had happened. He had stormed off without a single word. He had been tempted to believe Ron when he said that Draco was probably angry that they'd say bad things about Snape- a few months ago, he'd have immediately agreed with the redhead. Nathan, however, hadn't been convinced and neither was Hermione. They had waited for a while, hoping he'd come back, but when the Great Hall slowly cleared and their brother hadn't shown his face yet, Nathan had suggested splitting off to find him before he did anything stupid. Almost forty minutes had passed since then and they weren't any closer.

"Guys!" Neville came up beside them, stepping off of a moving staircase. Behind him, Megan Jones stepped off as well. "This is Megan Jones."

Harry smiled at her. "Hey, Megan."

"Hi, Harry. Neville told me you were looking for Draco Malfoy."

"Black," Nathan corrected. Harry frowned at Megan's flinch. "It's Draco Black. I'm Nathan- uh, Finian Black. Neville's cousin."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes," Megan nodded. "I saw him coming from the dungeons. He looked upset."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "That makes sense. He must've gone to talk to Snape. Which direction did he go?"

"Dunno. I didn't really pay much attention to him. Did something happen?"

"No," he said. "Not really. It's- uh, it's a family matter. Sorry."

She smiled and waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I'm not insulted. Just don't expect me to share my uncle's famous Shepherd's Pie recipe with you."

He grinned. "I won't."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Does anyone know what class he's supposed to be in now?"

"Charms," Nathan said at once. Harry frowned looked away from Megan and frowned as his brother continued. "I went by the Charms room already but he's not there."

"Have you been to the common room?"

His brother hesitated. "No. I figured it was too obvious. Draco's cunning enough to know that that's the first place we'd look."

"He won't expect us to look for him," Hermione pointed out. "He probably thinks you haven't even noticed that he didn't go to class."

Harry hadn't considered that. He had assumed Draco would've known but thinking back now, it didn't make any sense. They'd been enemies for so long and their kindness didn't go back a long way. He wouldn't expect Draco to go looking for him either, so why would his brother expect any different?

"Let's go there," he said. "Nate, you can go in and see if he's there."

They said goodbye to Megan and Harry only vaguely wondered why she wasn't in class before they turned a corner and lost sight of her. The track up to Ravenclaw tower was longer than the one to the Gryffindor common room. Only Nathan made it up to the top without his breathing going any heavier than before. He grabbed the doorknob, shaped like an eagle, and knocked once. When nothing happened, Harry nudged him.

"Don't worry," Nathan said. "He's slow sometimes."

He frowned. "Who?"

Nathan pointed at the eagle. "He. Takes a while sometimes but he always comes around."

 _"_ _What disappears when you say its name?"_

"Silence," Hermione said at once, blushing deeply when they turned to look at her. "My parents got me a book of riddles when I was younger."

The door swung open. Nathan went in by himself and as the door closed behind him, Harry found himself willing Draco to be inside. All those stairs, and the detention they had surely earned, would be all for nothing if he wasn't in his dorm. At least the detention wouldn't be with Snape even if it was that old bat that found them skipping class. Surely that meant that his special classes with him were off as well, he mused. His deadline was close to being over, with only two days left for him to get his magic back under control. It was getting better, he knew it was, but it still didn't feel completely right. Maybe it wasn't his core that was off at all. He was just tired. With the dreams of that door coming at least every other day, he didn't get nearly as much rest as he wanted to. When those dreams came, it was as though he wasn't asleep at all but walking down that hallway wide awake. He never woke up any more rested than he'd been before.

The door swung open. Nathan stepped out, Luna by his side.

"No Draco?" He asked, deflated.

"He's in there," Nathan confirmed. "He said he'd meet us later, after dinner. In an empty classroom. Then he told me to go to class."

"Us?"

He nodded. "All of us. His friends, yours and mine."

"That's everyone from the Defence club," Hermione realised. "Do you think he wants to give it another try?"

"He might."

A surge of excitement went through him. The Defence club hadn't started out very well, with their first and so far only session ending with Draco discovering the cuts on Harry's hand. He pulled his sleeves down at the memory. His cuts had faded long ago and they were hardly visible anymore. He could only really see them if he concentrated hard enough and even then they looked more like scribble than true words. Snape had helped him back then and had applied a salve that had taken away both the pain and the visibility and for a moment, Harry had thought that Snape had finally stopped hating him. Not anymore. Hatred was the only emotion he knew, Harry thought bitterly.

"Ron, you should tell Ginny and your brothers."

Ron groaned. "No one even knows where Fred and George are these days if they're not in class."

"At dinner, then."

Hermione nodded. "Great. If we hurry now, we can still make it to class."

"And tell them what? 'Sorry, Craydon, we were busy hunting down Harry's brother who was angry because Snape wanted to sacrifice Harry and Nathan to You-Know-Who?' That'll go over well."

"I say we should skip this one and go to the next class. If one of us gets detention, Nathan could go to McGonagall and get us out of it."

"You wish," Nathan scoffed. "My Grandmum won't get me out of detention, let alone any of you. I agree that we should wait it out, though. No sense going in late now and having to explain ourselves."

"Fine," Hermione said reluctantly. "But only this once."


	46. Chapter 45

**LadyMalfoy303: Wish granted.**

 **PadyandMoony: Honestly, I'd be lying if I said that I intended for Nathan to come across as so important. It's poor writing and one of the main things that bother me about this story. I'm trying to shift the focus right now and take Nathan out of the spotlight somewhat. He isn't the main character. Harry is. Nathan is mainly relevant to some character arcs, which will be revealed in due time, and for some relationships. Thank you for pointing that out. I will definitely make sure to watch out for that. McGonagall wouldn't have agreed to sending Harry in as bait but Nathan is her grandson, so I think it's perfectly reasonable that she would react more strongly to Snape suggesting using Nathan, whom she loves very, very dearly. Harry, just like in canon, cares more about others than himself, so, again, Snape suggesting using Nathan struck him more and upset him more.**

 **Navyangel85: Hmmmmmm?**

 **Enjoy this almost on time chapter!  
**

* * *

 _The night they were killed, they didn't call me Jamie. They called me Harry._

Remus sighed and placed the letter on the table. Something was missing from this puzzle, something incredibly big and tiny all at once. He could feel it. A puzzle yearning to be solved, one that would bring peace to a boy who was horribly confused. He couldn't solve it, though. No one could, he knew that for certain. Only they could know for sure. They had given their lives for a child and Remus, like everyone else, had always assumed it was for the one that had lived to see his first birthday but was it truly so? Maybe they had forgotten, in the heat of the moment. Maybe they had looked at the baby that looked exactly like their son and forgot, for just a few minutes, that it was Jamie, Eoin, they were looking at. It would crush Harry if this was how it had happened. What a horrible truth to live with, knowing his parents had given their lives for him but only because they thought he was theirs. He could write to him, Remus mused, and tell him he had it all wrong, that Lily and James had loved him as deeply as they had loved Harry. It might be a lie, however. He just didn't know and he doubted he ever would until the day he died and joined his friends in whatever lay beyond.

"Is something bothering you, Lupin?"

Narcissa Black was standing in the doorway, clutching a cup of steaming tea tightly. Since the last Order meeting, she had hardly left her room, worried sick for the sons she hadn't gotten a chance to raise.

"Yes, there is, in fact," he said. "Harry send me a letter this morning that's troubling me."

She frowned and sat down opposite him. "What did he write to you about?"

"Lily and James. The night they died."

"They gave their lives for my son," she said, nodding. "What about it?"

He fondled the letter gently. "He…worries that it wasn't him they meant to die for. I told you before that they called your son Jamie, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Yes. Well, when he gets too close to Dementors…Harry hears James and Lily."

Narcissa paled. "As they die?"

"In their final moments, yes. He told me that he hears James shouting at Lily, telling her to take Harry and run, that he'd hold Voldemort off. He didn't have his wand on him, did you know? I found it in the living room near the fireplace when I visited Godric's Hollow the year after it happened."

"No, I didn't know that," she said softly. "He opposed the Dark Lord without his wand?"

"Many would call it foolish but that was James for you," he smiled, the image of a black-haired boy bearing down on his mind. "Brave beyond any reason."

During their schoolboy days, he had rarely seen James without his wand. He had always fiddled with it, even after he accidentally set Peter's homework on fire in their Third Year, or simply hold it in his hand. He had never been so attached to it at home, not whilst he was still a boy and not when he was a man either and Remus had never understood the meaning of it, not until many years later when he found himself back at Hogwarts and his wand became his closest companion. A simple safeguard, a way to feel in control even when he wasn't. Yet, that had been James' last mistake, leaving his wand by the fireplace instead of on his body. He wouldn't have lived, Remus had no illusions about that. No one had ever survived Voldemort, no one but Harry, who had a mother's love cast over him as a shield.

"Do you still have the wand?" Narcissa asked. "Maybe Harry would like to have it."

He nodded. "He certainly would. He clings to everything that brings him a bit closer to them. The wand was placed in James' vault, if I remember correctly. Harry has the keys to it, I'll let him know to look for it the next time he visits Gringott's. Anyway, as I was telling you before, James shouted for Lily to take Harry and run away. She took him upstairs, into his nursery, and barricaded the door. Voldemort…broke through it easily enough, I suppose. He offered her the chance to live if she only stepped aside and let him kill Harry but she didn't. She pleaded with him to kill her instead."

"He meant to stay true to the deal he had struck with Severus?" She asked, her voice a mere horrified whisper. "I never imagined. To think that she could've lived but chose to die for my son…"

"She loved him with all her heart," Remus said. "As though he was her own."

Narcissa turned away and Remus pretended not to see as she wiped a tear away before it could fall. Was she thinking of Lily, he wondered, or was she imagining a world where her love hadn't ran as deep? It didn't matter. Lily would've given her life for any child. She adored them, thought them innocent above all. After losing the son she had birthed, he doubted she could've lived with herself, knowing she had sacrificed someone else's son to save her own life.

"You're not hearing about this for the first time," Narcissa said once she had composed herself. "You've known of Harry's…terror before."

"He told me two years ago. He suffered when the Dementors were stationed around Hogwarts, more so than any other student. I taught him how to procure a Patronus that year."

"A Patronus? A fully corporate Patronus?"

"Incredible, isn't it? I was just as amazed as you are. It took the form of a stag, James' stag. There is so much of Lily and James in that boy, even though he's not theirs. So much that his Patronus matches James' Animagus."

"I didn't realise he was an Animagus."

He nodded. "So are Sirius and Peter. They did it for me, to help me when I transformed. James was a stag, as you've surely realised by now, and Sirius is a dog. Peter is a rat."

"Just like he is in human form, that pathetic excuse for a man. Why are you telling me this, Remus? What is troubling Harry about this memory? Something must have changed."

" _Harry_. Harry's view of himself changed and his knowledge of the past. I've told you before that they called him Jamie but in his memory…they call him Harry every time he hears them. It bothers him greatly. He thinks they may not have given their lives for him but for _Harry_."

"And you?" She asked. "You've known them the longest. Do you think they mistook my son for theirs?"

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "I frankly don't know. It doesn't make sense that they would call him Harry in those moments. But even if they thought he was the boy they lost, it makes little difference. I _know_ them, Narcissa. They would've sacrificed themselves for _any_ child, whether it was yours or someone else's."

"But he's beating himself up over it, isn't he?"

"He would give everything to give Lily and James another chance at life," he explained. "He has yearned for them his entire childhood. He would hate himself if he thought he had robbed them of their lives by looking like their son. He never knew how to distinguish between things that truly are his fault and things he couldn't help."

Her eyes grew determined at his words and she nodded steely. "That'll have to change. My son won't be burdened by things he had no control over."

He smiled. Had Harry grown up with Narcissa, instead of Lily's dreadful sister, he had no doubt that the boy would have a healthy sense of self-worth. He saw it on the Malfoy boy- Draco- back in Third Year and over the summer as well. He was a boy who knew that he deserved to be loved. It still surprised Harry, however, to meet people who treated him kindly. He valued the lives of others over his own, much like James and Lily. He sighed inwardly. He may not be their son but he was so like them. Reckless like James and stubborn like Lily. Caring and loving, as they both were, but as hot-tempered as well. He held grudges as well as James, whose grudge for Severus was infamous even decades later. How could a boy not related to his best friends be just like the boy he imagined their son would grow into? He was so decidedly unlike Lucius Malfoy and it had taken Remus days to find anything of Harry in Narcissa. She was as protective of her loved ones as he was and equally as fierce. She was mild-tempered, however. He had only seen her lose it once, when Severus suggested using Harry, and then Nathan, as bait, and even then she had appeared as calm and collected as ever. She avoided conflict until she had already figured out a sure way to win whatever battle she was going into when Harry would charge first and ask questions later. He looked like her, for sure, but his personality wasn't one he would think fitting for the son of a Malfoy and a Black. Then again, Sirius wasn't much of a Black himself and both of his parents had been born wearing the name of Black.

"I agree."

"Good," she said, satisfied with his answer. "I came to ask something else of you, however."

"Oh?" He asked, sipping at his own cup of tea, which had gone cold already.

She nodded and fiddled with her cup. "Yes. The boys will come back for the holidays, naturally, and I fear they won't have gained much defensive knowledge between now and then."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," he said. "Harry wrote that your boys and their friends are forming some sort of Defence club."

"Draco called it a study group."

"Yes, exactly. Harry and Draco are both very good students when it comes to Defence, although I dare say that Harry has a natural gift for it that Draco doesn't possess."

"He favours Potions," Narcissa agreed. "And if my niece is correct, Nathan has a gift for Transfigurations."

He nodded, although he really didn't know whether it was true or not. Whilst he was still teaching, he hadn't taken much notice of Draco outside of his own classroom and when he got into confrontations with Harry and Nathan had escaped his notice altogether as he hadn't been part of the boy's homeschooling. He did know that Harry was exceptional, however. He took to Defence like few other, outscoring even Hermione Granger, who might just be the brightest student of her year.

"I'm sure between the three of them, they will get quite a bit done."

"Be that as it may, they're not professors, nor are they adults. Draco is only fifteen and the twins even younger. I was hoping you might tutor them over the holidays, teach them what they need to know."

"For their O.W.L.s?" He asked, even though he feared he already knew the answer. The times when exams were all the students had to worry about- he wished for them to return.

"For the war," Narcissa clarified. "I want them to survive, Remus. All three of them. I know Dumbledore and Severus don't have faith in Harry's survival but I do. He _will_ survive and if I have to kill the Dark Lord myself. I won't lose any of my boys, not again."

"If it's in my power," he said slowly. "I would die a thousand deaths so that Harry gets to live."

"I know. Will you help me prepare them?"

"Of course I will."

She smiled at him. "Good. I knew I could count on you. In the meantime, would you write Harry and tell him what you told me about Lily and James? I think he will take it better if it comes from you. After all, you knew them."

"Certainly."

"Thank you."

The silence was comfortable, companionable almost, but as the minutes went by, the urge to say something grew larger. Anything to break the silence that was starting to bear down on him and got awkward the longer it proceeded. They weren't friends, he thought. They got along well enough and they could talk to one another kindly, especially when they were talking about Harry, but they couldn't sit together like friends could, not talking or doing anything together aside from sitting in silence.

"How are your boys bonding?" He finally asked as the awkwardness reached its peak. "When I last saw them, Harry and Nathan seemed to be adjusted well to being twins but Draco was more left out than included in their bonding."

She frowned. "Yes, I noticed that as well. I suppose it's only natural. Draco and Harry were enemies, after all, and Nathan was raised to be weary of all Malfoys. Draco likes to pretend that he doesn't care but I think he secretly cares a lot," she smiled but not at him. A memory, he supposed, maybe something one of the boys had written to her. "Nathan spends a lot of time with him now. They sit together at meals and in the common room. I could hardly believe it the first time he wrote that Draco had helped him with a Potions essay. Two months ago, they were strangers and now they're treating each other almost brotherly. Harry…it's difficult for him, I think. He doesn't share a common room with them, nor a house. He doesn't see them as often but he cares greatly for Nathan."

"It sounds like Nathan draws them together," he offered. "Sharing love for the same person can be enough to make friends out of enemies."

"Yes," her smile widened. "I suppose so."

He hoped Harry could learn to love Draco as a brother as well. After so many years spent by himself, wishing for a family to call his own, he deserved to take advantage of the one he was granted to the fullest. If that meant fraternising with Slytherins- well, so be it. Even a Slytherin brother, a Malfoy brother, was better than none.


End file.
